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PROBLEMS OF RELIGION 



AN INTRODUCTORY SURVEY 



BY 

DUEANT DRAKE 
A.M. (harvard), Ph.D. (Columbia) 

Professor of Philosophy at Vassar College 
Author of Problems of Conduct 




BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

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COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY DURANT DRAKE 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



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TO MY WIFE 

WHOSE LIFE REVEALS THE SECRET OF RELIGION 
FAR BETTER THAN ALL MY WORDS 



PREFACE 

This book, like its predecessor, Problems of Conduct, 
represents a course of lectures given for several years to 
undergraduates of Wesleyan University. It is hoped that 
these lectures in printed form will be useful, not only for 
other college classes, but for the general reading public that 
is interested in the great and vital problems of religion. 
Their aim is to give a rapid survey of the field, such that 
the man who is confused by the chaos of opinions on these 
matters, and himself but little able to judge between con- 
flicting statements, may here get his bearings and see his 
way to stable belief and energetic action. In so limited a 
space it will not be possible to attempt an adequate pres- 
entation of the arguments for each view advanced or a re- 
buttal of the infinitely numerous and shifting arguments by 
which the various current doctrines seek to justify them- 
selves. All that can be done is to offer the results of the best 
scholarly work in the wide field covered, and thereby to 
present a general perspective of those truths, some old and 
some but recently acquired, which bear practically on our 
religion. 

The carefully chosen lists of readings appended to each 
chapter, together with the more specific references in the 
footnotes, will serve — for those who are interested enough 
to pursue any topic further — as a check upon the author's 
conclusions and an initiation into the further aspects of the 
several problems. Practically all of this selected literature 
is in English, and is readable, as well as worth reading. 
The hopelessly antiquated literature is not cited, except 
occasionally, where it seems necessary for the sake of fair- 



vi PREFACE 

ness in presenting both sides of a long controverted matter. 
The literature that indulges in rhetoric rather than in solid 
argument is also omitted, and all that range of books once 
useful but now stranded by the onrushing tides of criticism. 
Such names as Edwards, Emmons, Hodge, on the one hand, 
and Strauss, Renan, Ingersoll, on the other, are absent; but 
whatever of their thought survives in contemporary dis- 
cussion will be found represented in the more recent works 
referred to. The ideal of justice to all legitimate opinions has 
been kept in mind, but has not precluded the attempt to 
present as clearly as possible whatever conclusions seem 
to the author warranted by our present-day knowledge. 

There are two fires between which the critical writer on 
religion stands. On the one side, his historical investiga- 
tions and scientific attitude inevitably seem cold and un- 
friendly to him whose personal belief is, necessarily, treated 
as one of many forms of possible religious belief, springing 
originally, as all have, out of superstition and error, and 
developed largely through the forces of prejudice and 
emotion. From the other side come the murmurs of those 
who, standing outside of these beliefs, and feeling no pull 
of longing or loyalty toward them, feel an impatience at so 
much concern with what appears to them a mere conglomer- 
ate of preposterous and visionary ideas. In the introduc- 
tory chapter that follows, I have essayed to defend what, 
fortunately, for most readers will now in these more toler- 
ant times need no defense, an attitude toward religion that 
is both warm, sympathetic, reverent — and critical, open- 
eyed, resolute to follow the truth wherever it lead. 

Parts of this book, in manuscript, have been read by Dr. 
Percy W. Long, of Harvard University, Professor Clayton 
R. Bowen, of the Meadville Theological School, President 
Albert Parker Fitch, of Andover Theological Seminary, 



PREFACE vii 

Professor J. W. Hewitt, of Wesleyan University, Professor 
C. B. Hedrick and W. P. Ladd, of the Berkeley Divinity 
School, and Professor D. C. Macintosh, of the Yale School 
of Religion. In an earlier form it was read, with sympathetic 
and illuminating comment, by that leader and inspirer of us 
all, William James. To all of these I render grateful acknowl- 
edgment; and to two others whose written and spoken 
words have been of the utmost service to me — Professor 
George Santayana, formerly of Harvard University, and 
Professor Dickinson S. Miller, of the General Theological 
School, New York. To none of these, however, must any 
responsibility be attributed for the opinions which I here 
espouse. 

My thanks are due to the editors of the American Journal 
of Theology, the Biblical World, the Monist, and the Inter- 
national Journal of Ethics for permission to reprint various 
sentences and portions of chapters which have appeared as 
a part of earlier essays in these periodicals. 

Durant Drake. 



CONTENTS 



INTRODUCTORY ..... 1 

The importance of the study of religion. 

The need of a critical attitude toward religion. | 

PART I. HISTORICAL 

CHAPTER I. The Origins of Religion .... 9 
The sources of primitive religious ideas and practices: — 
I. The precarious situation of primitive man. 
II. The spontaneous attribution of life and will to inanimate 
objects. 

III. Dreams and th e myste ry of death. 

IV. Abnormal and mysterious experiences. 
V. Reflection upon the origin of things. 

VI. Man's need of deliverance from himself. 

CHAPTER II. Greek and Roman Religion ... 20 
In what striking ways did religion develop in Greece? 
What is the permanent significance of the classic Greek religion? 
What were the main currents in Roman religion? 

CHAPTER III. Buddhism and Zoroastrianism ... 36 
What was the soil from which Buddhism grew? 
What was the nature of Buddha's mission? . 

What were the striking aspects of his teaching? 
What was the subsequent history of Buddhism? 
What was the essence of Zoroastrianism? 

CHAPTER IV. The Hebrew Religion 49 

How did the Hebrew monotheism arise? 

What are the striking features of the religion of the prophets and 

psalmists? 
How did the Messianic hope arise? 

CHAPTER V. Jesus the Christ 63 

What are the sources of our knowledge of the life of Christ? 
What were the salient events of his life? 



x CONTENTS 

What were the striking features of his personality? 
What were the striking features of his teaching? 

CHAPTER VI. Paul and the Founding of the Church 82 
How did the Christian Church originate? 

What are the salient facts of Paul's life and personality? j 

What was the gist of Paul's teaching? P 

CHAPTER VII. Early Christianity 96 

What were the causes of the triumph of Christianity? 
Under what influences did the Church evolve her creeds? 
What was the origin of the conceptions of 
I. The Atonement? 
II. The Trinity? 
III. Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory? 

CHAPTER VIII. Later Christianity; Mohammedanism 113 
By what process did the Roman Church become dominant? 
What was the significance of the Reformation? 
What have been the subsequent tendencies of Christianity? 
What are the essential features of Mohammedanism? 



SUMMARY OF PART I 128 

What has been the trend of religious evolution? 

PART II. PSYCHOLOGICAL 

CHAPTER IX. The God of Experience .... 135 

How does God appear in human experience? 
I. God in nature. 
II. God in our hearts — the Holy Spirit. 
III. God in Christ. 
What is the nature of God as thus revealed? 

CHAPTER X. Sacrifice and Sin 151 

W T hat is the history of the concepts of sacrifice and sin? 
What are their dangers? 
What is their permanent value? 
The doctrine of Original Sin. 




CONTENTS xi 

CHAPTER XI. Salvation, Conversion, and Atone- 
ment 166 

What is the meaning of salvation? 

What is the meaning and value of conversion? 

The doctrine of the Atonement. 

CHAPTER XII. Faith and Prayer 180 

What is the nature and value of faith? 
What has been the evolution of prayer? 
What is the function and value of prayer? 

CHAPTER XIII. Religious Love and Peace . . .197 

The spirit of love and service in religion. 

Religious peace. 

Mysticism and Christian Science. 

CHAPTER XIV. The Essence of Religion . . .213 

How shall we determine the essence of religion? 
What is the relation of religion to theology? 
What is the relation of religion to morality? 
What is the essential nature of religion? 

CHAPTER XV. The Christian Religion .... 229 
Is Christianity the true religion? 
The Gospel of Christ. 
The Gospel about Christ. 
The Christian life and Christian creeds. 
Who is the true Christian? 



SUMMARY OF PART II 243 

What function does religion have in the life of man? 

PART III. PHILOSOPHICAL 

CHAPTER XVI. Theological Method and the Scien- 
tific Spirit 249 

The three methods of theology : — 
I. Authority. 
II. A priori reasoning. 
III. The scientific method. 
The opposition of the Church to the scientific spirit. 



xii CONTEXTS 

CHAPTER XVII. The Interpretation of the Bible 264 
How did the conception develop of the inerrancy of the Bible? 
What facts have altered our conception of the Bible? 
Is the Bible inspired, the Word of God, authoritative? 
Wherein consists the greatness of the Bible 3 

CHAPTER XVIIL Miracles 280 

What considerations have weakened the belief in mirpcles? 
Of what value is the belief in miracles? 
What should be our attitude toward miracles? 

CHAPTER XIX. Creation and Design .... 295 
Can we draw theological inferences from 
I. The sheer existence of the universe? 
II. The existence of certain classes of facts? 
III. Marks of design or purpose? 

CHAPTER XX. The Interpretation of Religious 
Experience 312 

What cautions should be observed in interpreting religious ex- 
perience? 
I. The voice of conscience. 
II. Conversion. 

III. Faith-healing. 

IV. Mysticism and intuition. 

CHAPTER XXI. Pragmatic Arguments .... 332 
Can we trust a belief : 

I. Because its untruth would be intolerable? 
II. Because our hearts vouch for it? 
III. Because it "works"? 

CHAPTER XXII. The Counter-Attack upon Science 351 

Is reason untrustworthy because the product of blind forces? 
Is science based upon unproved and self-contradictory postulates? 
Is science based upon purely subjective data? 
Is science restricted in its scope? 

CHAPTER XXIIL The Problem of Evil .... 366 

Can evil be conceived as a partial view of the good? 
Is evil necessary for character-building? 
Is evil necessary at a stage in the evolution of humanity? 
Is evil the result of man's perverse use of his free will? 
Is evil to be attributed to God at all? 



CONTENTS xiii 

CHAPTER XXIV. Immortality 383 

The evolution of the belief in a future life. 
What considerations make against the belief? 
What are the leading arguments for the belief? 

CHAPTER XXV. The Venture of Faith .... 397 
Which is the higher ideal, loyal belief or impartial investigation? 
Should we accept or reject beliefs of whose evidence we are un- 
certain? 
May non-evidential motives properly influence belief? 

SUMMARY OF PART III ........ 412 

What is the present status of theology? 

INDEX 417 



PEOBLEMS OF RELIGION 

INTRODUCTORY 

The importance of the study of religion 

(1) Practically, if not absolutely, all known races of 
men have been in some sense or degree religious; and to 
many of them religion has been the most vital of all matters. 
Hence, the study of this great tract of human interest is es- 
sential for all who would comprehend what the life of man 
historically has been. And Christianity, the faith, confessed 
or potential, of the great majority of the probable readers 
of this book, deserves particular attention — just as school 
geographies properly lay special stress upon the topography 
of the State in which they are to be used, or historical cur- 
ricula upon the history and traditions of the fatherland. 
But, indeed, objectively considered, if we may judge by its 
results achieved and its evident vitality and promise, Chris- 
tianity is the greatest of all religions, and bids fair to be 
more and more the dominant religion of the world. The 
purely scientific interest in religious phenomena, and par- 
ticularly in Christian experience, should, then, be at least as 
great as that in any other field open to our research. 

(2) But more than this. Religion is a very precious pos- 
session, and a study of it should attract those who feel the 
lack in their own lives of its comfort and inspiration. There 
is in most men a great reservoir of potentiality of the reli- 
gious life; not wholly suffocated by material interests, not 
quite choked by the increase of knowledge and the crum- 
bling of antique doctrines, it awaits the spreading of a com- 



2 INTRODUCTORY 

prehension of the possibilities of religious living apart from 
discredited dogmas, to flood society with renewed enthusi- 
asm and power. A study of religion is practically of supreme 
importance when it can tap this latent spirituality and lead 
to an espousal of the religious life. 

(S) Again, it is important for those who are disturbed in 
their faith, who are .groping for light, or clinging desperately 
to doctrines they cannot whole-heartedly believe because 
they cannot see how to get along without them; for those 
who have lost their childhood's creed and turned their backs 
to religion because that creed represented the only religion 
they knew. Something to clarify the clouded minds of such 
men and women, ^religious in their hearts but confused in 
their outlook and paralyzed in their worship, — some way 
of harmonizing the conflicting ideals that beset them, — 
should come from a careful study of facts as they are. 

(4) Even those who are happy in a dogmatic slumber, 
but through their dogmatism are retarding the influence of 
religion in the world, and making it harder for others to find 
peace and religious fellowship, may be urged for the general 
good to question their presuppositions and look at religion 
with greater detachment from prejudice and desire. Only 
by willingness to criticize our own beliefs and confess our 
individual bias can we hope to approach to anything like a 
mutual understanding and working agreement. 

(5) Finally, a realization of the dynamic in religion should 
be a summons to those who are not helping in the work 
Christianity has to do in the world; should reenlist the in- 
terest of the earnest, intelligent, able men and women who 
have in such numbers abandoned the churches. Their help 
is needed, badly needed, to free the Church from those out- 
grown conceptions that once aided, but now hamper her; 
to win for her again the full respect of the thinking world; 
and to keep her through these bewildering changes infused 



INTRODUCTORY 3 

with such earnest idealism that she may be the power for 
righteousness of which the world, with its permanent tempta- 
tion to selfishness and lust and greed, stands now, as always, 
in need. 

The need of a critical attitude toward religion 

Truth is not the only good in life; nor is criticism, however 
valid, necessarily desirable. The religious spirit, in what- 
ever fantastic garb it be clothed, and however irrational the 
doctrines by which it seek to justify itself, is more beautiful 
and valuable than any accuracy of knowledge; and it were 
better to leave those doctrines uncriticized — if that were 
possible — than to weaken or maim that spirit. But there 
are definite and important reasons why a scientific attitude 
toward religious dogmas has become our imperative duty. 

(1) The insistence upon irrational views interferes badly 
with the spread of accurate knowledge; and, more than that, 
the spirit of dogmatism, the reluctance to criticize and re- 
consider beliefs in the light of observation and experiment, 
stifles that free and impartial study of evidence which has 
been the greatest contribution of the physical sciences to 
civilization. As will be shown in chapter xvi, historic reli- 
gion — and notably Christianity — has been a very disas- 
trous barrier to intellectual progress. For this reason, then, 
we must be willing to scrutinize critically our deepest be- 
liefs, because we want the truth; and we cannot be sure that 
we have the truth, that we are not, instead, standing in the 
way of enlightenment, unless we seriously undertake so 
to do. 

(2) But for the sake of our eventual assurance and peace, 
we must purge our religion of its superstition and error. For 
however we may cover our eyes and our ears, the truths that 
are being taught by archseologists and anthropologists, by 
historians and naturalists, are likely sooner or later to trickle 



4 INTRODUCTORY 

into our consciousness and torture us with misgivings. And 
when a man whose religion has been based upon unwarranted 
postulates or intertwined with illusory assurances finds that 
he has been in so far deceived, he is apt to lose his faith en- 
tirely and drift into skepticism and despair. It does not pay, 
in the long run, to found our hopes upon what the best 
thought of the age disproves or renders doubtful. 

(3) And finally, for the sake of the religion itself that we 
love, and its future in the world, we must submit it to the 
surgical operations of criticism. Nine tenths of the attacks 
upon Christianity are directed against the unessential and 
untrue accretions that are really separable from its inner 
kernel of living truth. Thus, our faith has become to some 
a derision and a laughing-stock, and by others has been cast 
impatiently aside, simply because the churches have stood 
in the way of that surgical work which alone can save it — 
and must save it before it is too late. Pious ignorance hurts 
the cause of religion almost as much as worldliness and 
sin; no cause can be safely guarded by an organization or a 
spirit of dogmatism that ignores facts and turns its back 
upon probabilities. And it is precisely because the battle 
with worldliness and sin is so desperately hard and long that 
religion must rid itself of its impediments, must strip for the 
struggle. It is entirely needless that so many of our finest 
should be alienated from the Church; but unless we accept 
the situation, excise the vulnerable portions of our creeds, 
and adjust our doctrines to the demands of the contempo- 
rary intellect, these men and women are bound to drift in 
greater and greater numbers away from the Church, and, 
very often, away from the precious truths of which she is the 
appointed teacher and custodian. 

It was the vivid realization of this situation that drew 
Matthew Arnold into writing critically of religion; and his 
essays, though superseded in many matters by the work and 



INTRODUCTORY 5 

thought of later scholars, are a notable example of reverent 
attempt to prune the luxuriant growths of religion, and by 
pruning to save it. There were those who expostulated with 
him, saying, as he tells us, "Why meddle with religion at 
all? Why run the risk of breaking a tie which it is so hard 
to join again?" And he replies: "The risk is not to be run 
lightly, and one is not always to attack people's illusions 
about religion merely because illusions they are. But at the 
present moment two things about the Christian religion 
must surely be clear to anybody with eyes in his head. One 
is, that men cannot do without it; the other, that they can- 
not do with it as it is." l 

Matthew Arnold was regarded in his day as a dangerous 
heretic; but to-day there are very many in the churches who 
realize as keenly the need in which our religion stands of 
revision and restatement. Dean Farrar, for example, writes : 
"He who helps to disencumber Christianity from dubious or 
false accretions is rendering to it a service which may be 
more urgently necessary than if he composed a book of evi- 
dences." It is only imposture that has need to fear the light; 
and the Church ought not merely to admit the truth reluc- 
tantly, step by step, but to take the lead in seeking the truth, 
whatever time-honored arguments or even precious assur- 
ances it may have to discard. 

It is not pride of knowledge, then, or a scientific dogma- 
tism, that demands a revision of our religious ideas, but a 
realization that there is much error in our traditional con- 
ceptions, and that the truth alone ultimately serves. The 
results of such a revisory work will by many be stigmatized 
as iconoclastic, as irreligious, as mischievous. The world's 
progress has always been accompanied by such cries. But 

1 Preface to God and the Bible. This preface, and that to Literature and 
Dogma, admirably state the point here insisted upon. 



6 INTRODUCTORY 

the world does progress, and if we are to keep our religion 
abreast of it we must air our beliefs in all currents of modern 
thought, we must question them freely, we must express the 
results of our reflection fearlessly and openly. To be afraid 
to think or to speak out our thoughts would be to stifle reli- 
gion and bring about inevitable decay. And then, what 
seems daring and subversive to-day will be taken for granted 
to-morrow; as Arnold says, "The freethinking of one age is 
the commonplace of the next." 

But, after all, it does not rest with us to decide whether 
religion shall be criticized or no. Destructive criticism has 
long been abroad, criticism that fails to do justice to the 
truths it discards, that throws away the kernel with the 
husk. This anti-religious propaganda is having its ill effects 
upon the religious spirit of the age. To save religion itself — 
or so much of it as is true and worthy our allegiance — de- 
mands our efforts. And to accomplish a just and adequate 
reconstruction we need first to go through the purgatorial 
fires of criticism. Religion must be solidly based on fact; 
unless it is willing to look science and history in the face and 
adjust itself to their results, it cannot long continue to live. 

Yet let us throughout remember that to live the religious 
life is more important than to understand the truth about 
religion; and while willing ourselves to sacrifice whatever 
may be required to the attainment of that truth, let us, 
wherever we have to do with what has inspired and com- 
forted men, walk reverently and with unshod feet; for the 
ground whereon we tread is holy ground. 



PART I 
HISTORICAL 



CHAPTER I 

THE ORIGINS OF RELIGION 

Religion, as we view it historically, is a complex com- 
posite, woven of many strands that stretch back into the 
remote past. Our task in this chapter is to trace some of the 
more important of these sources, and give a rapid pen-pic-' 
ture of the mental attitudes of primitive man that combined 
to make him religious. 

The sources of primitive religious ideas and practices 

I. The precarious situation of 'primitive man. When man, 
scarcely yet more than a brute, begins to think about his 
needs and to strive consciously for those ends toward which 
blind instinct has hitherto driven him, he finds himself in a 
precarious and uncertain situation. He rears a rude shelter 
— the storm batters it, the winds shake it, the lightning 
threatens to destroy it; he plants a few seeds to insure him- 
self food — the sun scorches them and the drought spoils the 
fruit of his labors; the tempest buffets him, the thunder ter- 
rifies him — he realizes his helplessness before these powers 
that are so much greater than he, and on whose kindly aid 
he is dependent for his prosperity, nay, his very existence. 

Lucretius observes that men "much more keenly in evil 
days turn their minds to religion." 1 And, indeed, that robust 
old atheist elsewhere confesses, "Who is there whose mind 
does not shrink into itself with fear of the gods, whose limbs 
do not creep with terror when the parched earth rocks under 
the terrible blast of the thunderbolt, and the roaring sound 
1 De Rerum Natura, in, 53. 



10 HISTORICAL 

sweeps across the heavens? ... Or when the full fury of the 
wild wind scours the sea and drives across its expanse the 
commander with his brave legions and his elephants, does 
he not in prayer seek peace with the gods?" 1 Thus it was 
commonly repeated in antiquity that fear made the gods; 
fear, and, we may add, hope; that despair of man at his own 
frail faculties that cries out to some one, to any one, for help. 
When it is fear of his fellow man, or of the brutes, he is not 
without means of self -protection; but when his apprehension 
is of those physical forces by which he is surrounded, which 
so often menace his welfare and his life, he knows not how to 
save himself. Ignorant for the most part as yet how to meet 
these dangers by physical means, and under the need of 
doing something to ward off the evil, he cries out, he gesticu- 
lates, he commands, he beseeches these Powers not to harm 
him. 2 

All this is prior to any definite formulation of the idea of a 
god or spirit; it is mere spontaneous psychological reaction. 
Magic, — the attempt to coerce the surrounding Powers by 
incantations and mysterious rites, — prayers, sacrifices for 
appeasement, vows — all such activities antedated articu- 
late belief; it was in his quieter and more reflective moments, 
no doubt, and as an explanation and justification of these in- 
stinctive acts, that primitive man attained to a definite and 
steady belief in quasi-human Beings behind the blessings and 
catastrophes that befell him. Indeed, among many savage 
races but lately studied, there has been no real personalizing 

1 De Rerum Natura, v, 1210. 

2 Animals also may whine and tremble in the presence of danger. But 
man alone, with his dawning self-consciousness, remembers the danger, 
reflects upon it, realizes the precariousness of his situation and his depend- 
ence upon the Powers about him. It is man's faculty of imagination, con- 
structive thought, and auto-suggestion, his ability to react to unperceived 
and merely imagined objects, that develops out of these otherwise transi- 
tory and vague moods a permanent, if nickering, conception of superhuman 
Powers besetting him. 



^ 



THE ORIGINS OF RELIGION 11 

of nature-forces. We have in the Algonkin "manitou" 
and the Melanesian "mana" a mysterious potency, a vital 
power, recognized in things, to be reckoned with and dealt 
with cautiously, but not clearly personal. Of the aborigines 
of Australia we are told by various observers that they offer 
no sacrifices or prayers to any personal Beings. But "even 
though they appeal to no spirits in their ceremonies, these 
ceremonies do express valuational attitudes of a definitely 
religious character." l That cultural stage characterized 
by vague fears of the supernatural, when man was as yet 
hardly conscious of the fact of personality in himself, and 
so hardly postulating personality of natural forces, has been 
termed by recent writers the pre-animis tic stage. 2 

II. The spontaneous attribution of life and will to inanimate 
objects. As man's mental life became more acute, there was 
an inevitable tendency toward the genuine personification 
of the powers of nature. William James tells us 3 how irre- 
sistibly he was dominated by the impulse to think of the 
great San Francisco earthquake — which he felt at Palo 
Alto — as a living being. It was The Earthquake; it stole 
into his room, it shook him as a terrier shakes a rat; it ex- 
ulted in its power. He reports, further, that practically 
every one experienced a similar psychological reaction, even 
those who, like him, were most accustomed to scientific con- 
cepts and abstract analysis. It is, thus, only our sophistica- 
tion and intellectual maturity that prevent us from feeling 
all natural forces, or at least the violent and dangerous ones, 
as endowed with personality. So an English writer, describ- 
ing his own experience as a boy: "Sitting on the hillside 
when the hot season was coming near its end he saw the 

1 King, p. 171, footnote. Throughout this book, works named in the 
bibliography at the close of a chapter will be referred to in the footnotes of 
that chapter by the author's name only. 

2 See Marett, chaps, i, rv. 

3 "The Earthquake," in Memories and Studies. 



12 HISTORICAL 

thunderstorms come across the hills. From far away they 
came, black shadows in the distance, and the thunder like 
far-off surf upon the shore. Nearer they would grow and 
nearer, passing from ridge to ridge, their long white skirts 
trailing upon the mountain-sides, until they came right over- 
head and the lightning flashed blindingly, while the thunder 
roared in great trumpet tones that shuddered through the 
gorges. The man watched them and he saw how gods were 
born. It was Thor come back again — Thor with his ham- 
mer, Thor with his giant voice. Thus were born the gods. 
Thor and Odin, Balder, God of the Summer Sun, Apollo 
and Vulcan, Ahriman and Ormuz, night and day." 1 

We must remember that all those physical events, the in- 
tricate causes of which our modern science explores, are to 
the savage pure mystery, inexplicable and arbitrary. Hav- 
ing no idea of natural causation, as we now understand it, he 
instinctively regards all the moving objects about him after 
the nearest analogy he has, his own life. When they harm 
him he ascribes to them the feelings he has when he injures 
another; when they favor him he imagines them kindly dis- 
posed; by a naive and natural fallacy he reads into them his 
own emotions and thinks of their activity, now beneficent, 
now baneful, as caused by intermittently friendly and mali- 
cious impulses such as he finds in his own heart. The burn- 
ing, warming sun, the portentous and muttering thunder- 
head, the broad, majestic river that brings fertility or flood 

1 H. Fielding Hall, The Hearts of Men, p. 72. Cf. Gilbert Murray, Four 
Stages of Greek Religion, p. 25: "The process of making winds and rivers 
into anthropomorphic gods is, for the most part, not the result of using the 
imagination with special vigour. It is the result of not doing so. The wind 
is obviously alive; any fool can see that. Being alive, it blows; how? why, 
naturally; just as you and I blow. It knocks things down, it shouts and 
dances. It whispers and talks. And, unless we are going to make a great 
effort of the imagination and try to realize, like a scientific man, just what 
really happens, we naturally assume that it does these things in the normal 
way, in the only way we know." 



THE ORIGINS OF RELIGION 13 

to his soil, the treacherous, rushing winds — these are all 
living beings to him, beings greater and more powerful 
than he; they are his gods. 1 

277. Dreams and the mystery of death. Another source of 
the belief in spirits is the inability of primitive men to real- 
ize the fact of death. Having no comprehension of the actual 
relations of mind and body, or of the hopeless finality, for 
our mundane experience, of death, they are slow to grasp 
the fact that he who was greatly honored or feared but the 
other day is now utterly non-existent and without power for 
their weal or woe. Do not men lie as still when heavy with 
sleep, or in a drunken stupor, when stunned or fainting or in 
an epileptic trance? Yet these still live, for they return to 
action. Moreover, in one's own dreams has one not left one's 
body lying still and traveled afar, unseen and unheard by 
others? Perhaps, then, while this hero's body is lying as if 
in sleep, the real person that feels and acts, inside of the 
body, has but left it lying here and is still about, continuing 
a sort of dream life, wherefrom he may perchance still help 
or harm the living. If his personality was powerful and made 
a deep impression upon men, they will still see him and 
talk with him in dreams; the nervous and emotional will 
fancy they see him as ghost or apparition while awake; 
these rumors, quickly magnified as they spread, will leave 
no doubt in the minds of those who feared or revered him. 
Ought he not, then, to be propitiated, to be besought for 
help? If an untoward misfortune befalls the tribe, perhaps he 
is angry at being so soon forgotten; if good fortune comes, 
perhaps it was his unseen assistance. The tribe unites in 
offering him sacrifices, he becomes a tribal god. 

In a society where patriarchal authority or the power of 
the chieftain was strong, — as was the case very generally 
through a long period of early human history, — the worship 
1 See, for examples, E. B. Tylor, Primitive Culture. 



14 HISTORICAL 

of ancestors or tribal chiefs, thought of as still continuing 
some sort of a shadowy existence, was almost inevitable. 
Some students l have gone so far as to conclude that all the 
gods were originally human heroes, glorified by the apotheo- 
sis of time. There is no doubt that many have thus come 
into suppositious existence, for the process has been carried 
on into historic times, in the deification of prophets and 
seers and kings. Moreover, the spirit of a deceased chieftain 
might be thought to abide on some remote mountain-peak, 
whence he sent showers or thunderbolts upon his people; 
and hence Beings generally regarded as nature-gods might 
readily have sprung from this other source. Crop- and 
wine-gods may have arisen from the custom of bringing 
food and drink to the graves of the dead. 2 But the personi- 
fication of natural forces is also so instinctive a process that 
there seems little doubt of the reality of both sources of the 
conception of gods. Among some peoples nature-gods seem 
to predominate, among others — as still in China — an- 
cestor- or chief-worship is more prominent. But in China 
there is the worship of Heaven, and in Rome there were 
the Manes, amid a host of nature-gods; almost everywhere 
the two strands mingle in a way difficult or impossible now 
to disentangle. 

IV. Abnormal and mysterious experiences. Those are the 
two principal sources of the conception of gods — the ani- 
mation of physical objects and the ascription of continued 
fife to the dead. But every mysterious experience no doubt 
aided the growth of such beliefs. The uncanny phenomena 
of clairvoyance and hypnotism, photisms and auditory hal- 
lucinations, multiple personality and automatisms — all 
those curious experiences that have filled the lives of saints 

1 For example, Herbert Spencer and Grant Allen. 

2 For concrete instances of the "making of a god" in such wise, see 
J. E. Harrison, Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion, chap. vn. 



THE ORIGINS OF RELIGION 15 

and nowadays fill the treatises on abnormal psychology — 
were not unknown to the savage, and no doubt increased 
his sense of an unseen world about him. By many primitive 
peoples these abnormal experiences were actually cultivated 
and assumed considerable importance. We have in historic 
times the well-known Greek oracles, the early Hebrew 
prophets, the Mohammedan dervishes, the Shamans of 
Siberia, practicing automatic utterance; we have the clair- 
voyant Witch of Endor consulted by Saul, and the Cumsean 
Sibyl with her vision of the future. 

The fact is, once the general conception of unseen quasi- 
human Beings becomes generally accepted, anything may 
give rise to a new one. So the Arabs have their djinns and 
demons, the Irish their " little people "; and elves, satyrs, 
fauns, mermaids, and a thousand other imagined beings, 
dance about the world, in addition to the larger and more 
important Powers. Once originated, anyhow and anywhere, 
such fancies grow and spread like gossip. Primitive man has 
little critical faculty or basis of experience from which to 
judge any tale he may be told; whatever plays upon his emo- 
tions, his fears, and his hopes — the terrifying, the comfort- 
ing, the awe-inspiring — is readily accepted and tenaciously 
held by his mind. For that matter, almost up to the present 
time every village had its ghost stories; and the more back- 
ward localities, though restrained by their allegiance to 
Christianity from developing a worship of gods, were full 
of fairies, banshees, apparitions, and superstitions. The 
rapid spread of the belief in witchcraft even among the 
educated, only a few generations ago, shows further how 
naturally credulous is the human mind, and how reluc- 
tant to banish beliefs, however irrational, that appeal to 
the imagination and emotions. 1 

1 For the "abnormal" element in primitive religion, see Pratt, chap, 
in, sec. 3; Lang, chaps, iv-vii. 



16 HISTORICAL 

V. Reflection upon the origin of things. Further, as man, 
with his developing reflective power, came to reason con- 
cerning the origin of things in general, — all the great 
world that he could not have made himself, so vast is it and 
wonderful, — he naturally conjectured that some greater 
Being, supremely powerful and intelligent, was its creator. 
Imaginative men would invent tales of how the world came 
into existence, as well as explanations in terms of super- 
human activity for all that seemed mysterious and inex- 
plicable. Best known to us, of course, are the two accounts 
given, respectively, in the first two chapters of Genesis. 
But these are only variant forms of legends far older, and 
common, in one shape or another, to many primitive peoples. 
Children to-day, at a certain stage of mental awakening, 
are apt to puzzle over the problem of origins, and to work 
out by themselves some fantastic or plausible solution. 
The creator-god is likely, however, to be rather remote and 
intangible, and unless identified, as by the Hebrews, with 
the intimate tribal god, to have little real significance for 
the practical religious life. 1 

VI. Man's need of deliverance from himself. These super- 
natural figures are, moreover, only the framework of religion; 
its rites, its practices, its laws of conduct, its attitudes of 
heart and will, are from the earliest times the real content 
of religion, as a phase of human life. The gods of mankind 
have been not only quasi-physical Powers supposed to in- 
habit the earth or the heavens, they have also been actual 
moral forces, speaking in men's conscience, warning them 
from sin, enjoining upon them practices and ideals of life 
which to some extent have actually guided their action. 
Primitive man has, to be sure, no comprehension whatever 
of the rational grounds of right conduct; he feels only the 
vague inner impulse to certain acts, or the pressure of the 

1 See Lang, p. 199; Leuba, p. 96/. 



THE ORIGINS OF RELIGION 17 

community-will. But the condition of success in his life, in- 
deed, of life at all, is the superposition of moral obligations 
upon those immediate animal impulses which uncontrolled 
would give him but a brutish and brief existence. He 
is in need of repressing some of his most powerful im- 
pulses for more ultimate ends, and of submitting his per- 
sonal will to those larger loyalties which make social life 
possible. He can only dimly understand these necessities, 
but he can feel their force; and as they often cross his im- 
mediate wishes, and are easily transgressed, penalties are 
early enforced by the tribe to insure obedience to them, and 
they are commanded by those in authority together with 
the rites and duties which are to be performed to the tribal 
god. 1 What more natural than that these moral duties should 
also be thought of as duties to the god, and the inner voice 
of conscience interpreted as his commands to the indi- 
vidual? The felt authority of the moral law seems to give 
an additional testimony to the existence of the god whose 
will it is supposed to be, and the belief in the god lends its 
prestige and awe to the moral obligations. Thus, as men 
emerge more and more from their animal state and formu- 
late ideals of life, they usually express their service to the 
ideal in terms of service to some god. 

Religion, we have said, owes its origin in part to the need 
of deliverance from the menace of the powers of nature. 
But man early feels the need of a further deliverance, a 
deliverance from himself; from his restlessness and cross- 
purposes, from the weight of selfishness and sin. The pleas- 
ures which he seeks too often turn to ashes in his hands, 
the passions that lure him on leave him dissatisfied, he is 
the victim of his own impulses and longings, often impotent 
to attain his ends and without any lasting satisfaction for his 

1 For an account of the origin of morality, see my Problems of Conduct, 
chaps, i-iii. 



18 HISTORICAL 

bewildered heart. In a happy environment, as among the 
Greeks, he may live in the moment and turn away from this 
reflective depression; but when life presses hard upon him 
he finds himself lonely and weary and heavy-laden. To 
what, to whom, shall he turn for safety, for guidance, for any 
lasting joy and peace? 

The usual means of deliverance that occurred to man was 
an appeal to those superhuman Powers by which he so 
readily believed himself surrounded. Some god became to 
him a savior not only from outward harm, but from inward 
confusion and unrest; in his service he found the depersonal- 
izing and unifying principle which could give his life dignity 
and peace. Uncultivated man is unable to grasp readily the 
abstract conception of a life free from personal desires, a 
life of self -forgetting service; but he finds this life, which 
alone can lift the human heart permanently above internal 
discord and personal fears, in the concrete conception of 
loyalty to his god. 

Religion, it is clear, has its historic roots in the great 
welter of primitive superstition; for this reason it has be- 
come discredited in many eyes. But this is a hasty deduc- 
tion. It often happens that beliefs originating in misunder- 
standing and false reasoning turn out to have, after all, 
the profoundest truth in them. Few of our most assured 
beliefs can afford to boast of their lineage; reason tests, 
but seldom originates. 1 So we need not look askance at the 
great gods of mankind because they have emerged from a 
confused host of imaginary supernatural Beings cf little or 
no religious value. Religion is something that has come out 
of this chaos; and its value, now that we have it, is independ- 
ent of its source. It is important to bear in mind that a 

1 Cf. what I have said of the humble origin of morality in Problems of 
Conduct, pp. 173-74. 



THE ORIGINS OF RELIGION 19 

supernatural Being is not, ipso facto, a god; it is " only 
when lie enters into some stated relation with men, or rather 
with some community of men." 1 It is not until supersti- 
tion is infused with moral, or spiritual, values that it be- 
comes worthy of the name religion. 

C. H. Toy, Introduction to the History of Religions (with bib- 
liographies). I. King, Development of Religion. A. Menzies, 
History of Religion, pt. I. S. Reinach, Orpheus, A History of 
Religions, Introduction. R. R. Marett, Threshold of Religion. 
G. Galloway, Philosophy of Religion, pp. 88-131. L. T. Hobhouse, 
Morals in Evolution, pt. n, chap. i. E. S. Ames, Psychology of Re- 
ligious Experience, pt. n. J. B. Pratt, Psychology of Religious 
Belief, chap. ill. D. G. Brinton, Religions of Primitive Peoples. 
F. B. Jevons, Introduction to the History of Religion. J. H. Leuba, 
Psychological Study of Religion, pt. n. A. Lang, Making of Religion. 
E. Clodd, Animism. H. Spencer, Descriptive Sociology; Principles of 
Sociology, vol. i, chaps, vm-xvii. G. Allen, Evolution of the Idea 
of God. A. Sabatier, Outlines of a Philosophy of Religion, bk. I., 
chap. i. W. Bousset, What is Religion, chap. n. American Journal 
of Religious Psychology, vol. 2, pp. 12, 57. S chaff -Herzog Encyclo- 
pedia of Religious Knowledge, art. Comparative Religion. 

1 W. R. Smith, Religion of the Semites, p. 112. 



CHAPTER II 

GREEK AND ROMAN RELIGION 

The peoples of Christendom for a long time treated all 
the non-Christian religions as simply " heathen " and there- 
fore unworthy of anything but disproof and contempt. 
Later, a few came to investigate with some curiosity and 
tolerance their queer customs and outlandish names. Only 
recently have they sought to look at them from the inside, 
to get at what they meant to those who believed and prac- 
tised them, and see if there be not in them some inspiration 
for us too, some lesson which we can incorporate into our 
own faith and practice. It is in this friendlier and more 
sympathetic spirit that we would approach them. 1 

As our space is limited, we can only touch upon one or 
two of the many forms which religion assumed as the race 
became civilized; and then, in somewhat greater detail, we 
will recount the history of the Hebrew-Christian religion, 

1 This spirit was well expressed by an old and little-known writer, 
Maximus of Tyre: "God himself ... is unnamable by any lawgiver, un- 
utterable by any voice, not to be seen by any eye. But we, being unable 
to apprehend his essence, use the help of sounds and names and pictures 
. . . yearning for the knowledge of Him . . . like earthly lovers, [who are] 
happy in the sight of anything that wakens the memory of the beloved. . . . 
If a Greek is stirred to the remembrance of God by the art of Pheidias, an 
Egyptian by paying worship to animals, another man by a river, another 
by fire, I have no anger for their divergences; only let them know, let them 
love, let them remember." (Quoted by Murray, p. 98, more fully.) To this 
we may add Emerson's "The religions we call false were once true. They 
also were affirmations of the conscience, correcting the evil customs of 
their times." ("Character," in Lectures and Biographies.) 

Cf . also, on the study of ancient religions, American Journal of Philology, 
vol. 29, p. 156. 



GREEK AND ROMAN RELIGION 21 

which has become, through a dramatic series of events, the 
dominant faith of the world. But we must not fail to speak 
of that beautiful Hellenic religion which, though utterly 
vanished from the earth in its literal acceptation, has fur- 
nished and still furnishes such inspiration for art, for liter- 
ature, and for life, that it is fitly called " the mother-tongue 
of the imagination." l 

In what striking ways did religion develop in Greece? 

(1) Prior to the conquest of Greece by the Aryan invaders 
of the second millennium B.C., there had been a civilization 
in some respects brilliant among the pre-Hellenic inhabi- 
tants of the peninsula; this age is now generally termed the 
Mycenaean or iEgean Age. Of its religion our knowledge 
is uncertain; but it included many elements that persisted, 
like the people themselves, and mingled with the religion 
of the conquering race. Through all the classic period we 
find traces of popular beliefs and rites, festivals and sac- 
rifices, whose origin dates far back before the Hellenic (or 
Achaean) invasions. But it is not those survivals that most 
interest us, or such elements in the superimposed religion 
as were similar; it is rather the differentiating characteristics 
of the Olympian religion, those powerful gods that came 
down from the north with the invaders and made their home, 
according to common belief, upon Mount Olympus. These 
gods of the " buccaneer kings " of the age of the migrations 
■ — the Heroic Age, as we have been accustomed to call it — 
were themselves at that time little more than " a gang of 
conquering chieftains," the reflection in the skies of their 
worshipers. But as the Achaeans mingled with the indigen- 
ous peoples and became more civilized, these " savage 
old Olympians " 2 turned gentler too; splendid, aristocratic 

1 G. Santayana, Poetry and Religion, p. 56. 

2 These phrases are from Murray. 



22 HISTORICAL 

figures as they remained, they dominated the dawning cul- 
ture of Hellas, giving to it a common religion, far cleaner 
and more wholesome, freer from debasing superstitions, 
from obscene and bloody rites, than the native cults which 
it assimilated or superseded. 

(2) The lordly Olympians were at the outset chiefly or 
wholly personifications of natural forces; Zeus, for example, 
was the same sky-god that we find in the Sanskrit Dyaus 
and the Roman Jove. But the popular imagination of this 
singularly imaginative race, and the bards in whom it 
abounded, delighted in weaving stories about them, re- 
fining out much of the cruelty of nature's ways that clings 
hard to nature-gods, until they created the glorious company 
of the Homeric pantheon, and, finally, the Zeus of iEschylus 
and Pheidias, the Hermes of Praxiteles, the Aphrodite of 
Melos — still, as she stands, armless and on alien soil, the 
highest human conception of queenly womanhood. Already, 
in the earliest extant literature of the Hellenes, their gods 
are half-detached from their natural sources and endowed 
with human emotions and purposes apart from those which 
might have been read into observed events. The needs of 
the people had seized upon myths once purely natural, 
found types of human fortunes in them, and developed in 
them new meanings. Poets and story-tellers, with their 
love of the dramatic and the picturesque, had projected 
their own impulses into these beings so vividly real to them, 
and had woven about them many adventures, plausible 
because human-like, but no longer a mere interpretation 
of phenomena. Thus, the gods, sharing human passions 
and sorrows, were brought nearer to men, and their en- 
larged powers and greater perfection became a more ade- 
quate picture of man's aspirations and ideals. And thus 
many of the tales of the gods, when collated and system- 
atized in the latter days — as, notably, by Hesiod — had 



GREEK AND ROMAN RELIGION 23 

little relevance left to the life of nature, the original nucleus 
of transparent myth having been engulfed by the new in- 
terest which had attached to them. 

Mythology is the product of the poetic faculty working 
upon that primitive and instinctive animism or spiritism 
which is also, and earlier, the material for religion. The 
conduct-reaction upon it, together with the feelings of 
reverence, awe, worship, and the like, constitute religion; 
the playful, detached, imaginative attitude toward it pro- 
duces mythology. 1 In classic Greece the poetic and ar- 
tistic results overshadow for us the more serious develop- 
ment. And it is, within limits, true that " the less seriously 
the gods are taken, the more luxuriantly does mythology 
flourish "; it was frowned upon by the pious, and must not 
be taken as an adequate expression of the religion that 
existed by its side. Yet the development and expurgation 
that were made, instinctively, perhaps, by the humanity 
and refinement of the Ionian bards, and consciously by 
the later philosopher-poets, influenced the religion itself 
profoundly, and helped to make it superior to the other re- 
ligions of the ancient world in certain respects which we 
shall be ready, in a moment, to note. 

(3) This Olympian religion, which left such a deep im- 
press upon the literature and art of classic Greece, was 
never, however, the whole of Greek religion. The mystery- 
worship of Eleusis, and the Orphic brotherhoods, which 
came into prominence in the seventh century B.C., and 
were probably a revival or outgrowth of pre-Olympian cults, 
maintained a vigorous life long after the Olympians had 
vanished, yielding finally only to the Christian conquest, 
although their outward expressions — initiation ceremo- 
nies, lustrations, sacrifices, processions, pseans, and mystic 

1 For the nature of mythology, see Encyclopedia Britannica, ad loc. 
Santayana, chap. iv. 



24 HISTORICAL 

plays — have vanished far more completely than the temples 
and statues and poetry of the Olympians. 1 But they were 
never the normal and universal possession of the people. 
They were mystic brotherhoods, spreading by conscious 
propaganda, promising a deeper and more spiritual life, 
a penetration into the inner secrets of being, and salvation 
after death. They reveal to us a widespread hunger for 
a more personal religion, an individual communion wdth 
God, which was to receive its eventual satisfaction in 
Christianity. They present us with the earliest example of 
a religion set free from local and political limitations, and 
conceived, at least in germ, as a universal and voluntary 
brotherhood — with no dogma, indeed, but with a sense of 
deepened insight, a purified will, and a larger hope. These 
mystic brotherhoods did not antagonize the state religion, 
but supplemented it for the more spiritual-minded, and 
helped to pave the way for the Christian revolution. 2 

(4) Beginning about the sixth century B.C., and reaching 
its culmination in the fourth, a great wave of philosophic 
interest swept over the cultured classes of Hellas. As in 
the case of the earlier refining of the Olympian religion, the 
movement seems to have begun with the Ionians, the 
Greeks who had crossed the ^Egean, and reached its climax 
in Athens. For the first time in recorded human history a 
truly scientific spirit arose, and men questioned every hith- 
erto accepted belief. Xenophanes ridiculed the irration- 
ality of the popular religious conceptions, and pointed out 
their immoral aspects. Other thinkers, divesting themselves 
of their preconceptions, began to construct original pic- 
tures of the cosmos. A general decline of naive beliefs en- 

1 It is true, however, that some of them survive in altered form in 
Christianity. 

2 Encyclopaedia Britannica, arts. Mystery, Orpheus, Mithras. F. Cumont, 
The Mysteries of Mithra, Oriental Religions in Roman Paganism. Harrison, 
chaps, rx-xn. Monist, vol. 11, p. 87. 



GREEK AND ROMAN RELIGION 25 

sued. The troops of anthropomorphic gods; with the rather 
childish — if often poetic — tales that clung to them, began 
to seem absurd; and the idea of a unitary purpose in things, 
a reason or ideal that was working itself out in the world, 
was suggested. Already Zeus — the roof of sky that bends 
over all — had become, in the popular mythology, the father 
and chief of the gods; and the name came to be often used 
to signify the One Great Power behind all appearances. A 
fragment of iEsehylus runs, " Zeus is the ether, Zeus the 
earth, Zeus the heaven, Zeus the universe and whatever 
is beyond the universe." In Plato's Phoedo we can glimpse 
the crystallization of the great thought that the universe 
forms a single moral order. Platonists and Stoics developed 
this vaguely monotheistic or pantheistic doctrine, with its 
call to trust in the outcome of events, its consolation and 
hope, far greater than that which the current polytheism 
could offer. It did not originate in the right way to catch 
the heart as the Christian monotheism did; it was too specu- 
lative, too remote, impersonal, and man-made, to become 
popular; and so it remained the philosophy of the few 
rather than the religion of the many. But it had an impor- 
tant part in making monotheism more natural and thus 
paving the way for the acceptance of Christianity. 1 

(5) The philosophic movement of Greece gave the death- 
blow to the Olympian religion, but did not replace it in the 
hearts of the people. A stern Stoicism brought comfort to 
many, indeed; and an Epicurean skepticism spread among 
the upper classes. But the masses turned rather with a re- 
vulsion which often accompanies an age of enlightenment, 
toward all sorts of wild superstitions. Cults of Oriental 
origin became prominent, with their extravagant and mor- 
bid conceptions. Despair at the failure of the old free city- 
states, a loss of trust in reason and organized effort, — in 
1 See J. Adam, Religious Teachers of Greece. 



26 HISTORICAL 

all that had made the glory of Hellas, now overwhelmed by 
political catastrophes, — a reaching-out for personal salva- 
tion, for ecstasies and spiritual exaltations, for something 
new to cling to, something greater to hope for, mark the final 
stage of Greek religion. Professor Murray, repeating a phrase 
of Professor Bury's, calls this phase a " loss of nerve." 
Through it the new star of Christianity was slowly rising. 

What is the permanent significance of the classic Greek 
religion? 

Many as were the phases of religion in Greece, it is the 
classic, the Olympian, religion that has left the deepest 
stamp upon civilization. Never so profound or so tender 
as Christianity or Buddhism, it yet has a lesson and charm 
for us in the sense of kinship with nature, the fearless, buoy- 
ant attitude toward life, the self -forgetting loyalty, and the 
spirit of moderation and freedom from excess that breathe 
through its mythology and are witnessed in its history. 
That the lovely Greek pantheon is an elaboration and 
blossoming-out of those primitive personifications of nature 
which were the common stock of the Aryan races is seen 
by a comparison with early Sanskrit literature. In the 
Vedas we meet with a poetic naturalism similar in many 
respects to that of the Greeks. But that branch of the Aryan 
race that migrated to the plains of India was dragged 
down by the struggle for existence, and its religion lost its 
original spontaneity and cheerfulness, until it was finally 
overshadowed and absorbed by a religion of renunciation 
and redemption. The Greeks, on the other hand, favor- 
ably situated in a smiling land, temperamentally light- 
hearted and politically free, 1 developed their religion on 

1 Free, that is, from alien domination, and from the sort of crushing 
despotism that prevailed so largely farther east. Of course they were con- 
stantly conquering one another; but there was a large element of free politi- 
cal activity down to the Macedonian conquest. 



GREEK AND ROMAN RELIGION 27 

natural and wholesome lines. With their keen and sym- 
pathetic observation of nature, their exuberant imagina- 
tion, and their healthy love of living, their gods came to 
express the wondrousness of natural phenomena, and the 
nobility and glory of free, dignified, loyal, happy human 
life. Of this spirit we have in Greek literature and art 
the ripe and perfect expression, a priceless possession to all 
who love nature in her many aspects, and retain, or love, the 
youthful and unsubdued attitude toward life. 

(1) Judaism and Christianity set little importance by 
nature; their emphasis has been upon inward things; they 
have looked back, to past events, and forward, to future 
salvation, but very slightly at the immediate natural en- 
vironment. And the modern man is apt to think of nature 
as the mere material for his labors, obdurate and resistant 
to his will. The Greeks, on the other hand, lived consciously 
in the presence of natural forces. The earth was to them a 
kindly mother, who brought forth many rich and beautiful 
gifts for men; the various crises in her life, the changing 
seasons, the growth of the corn and the vine, awakened 
their interest and gave opportunity for many a festival and 
rite. There was Persephone, carried away by Pluto to the 
underworld while plucking flowers in the field, but permitted, 
because of the sorrow of her mother, to return for two thirds 
of each year to the bright sunshine. What a happy allegory 
of the life of nature, with its annual death and its assured 
reappearance in the spring! And how near to us all do such 
allegories bring that life, of which our own is, after all, but a 
fragment and offshoot! 

So to the Homeric bards the dawn was a rosy maid aris- 
ing from the couch of night, the winds were shepherds of 
the fleecy clouds; and over all this manifold terrestrial life, 
father of all, was the open sky — sublime hoc candens quod 
invocant omnes Jovem. To hear the whispering of dryads 



28 HISTORICAL 

in the murmur of trees, the laughter of naiads in the ripple 
of brooks, to give all these living, moving things names and 
think of them as akin to human life, to tell of such com- 
monplace phases of nature in these poetic and romantic 
terms, was to find in them a new wonder and a new delight. 
This intimate communion with nature, so real to the heart 
of Hellas, and so alien to our modern religion, is left to be 
the perpetually recurrent theme of poets and artists, the 
invaluable bequest of a singularly gifted and imaginative 
people to our rather drab and utilitarian age. 

(2) But it is not merely the love of nature and of outdoor 
adventure that we find in the Homeric religion, it is some- 
thing finer and nobler that most endears it to us; it is the 
splendid fearlessness, the manly, undaunted attitude toward 
life that rings through it — that spirit that, without any 
belief that " all is for the best," without any hopes of 
heaven, found life, when nobly lived, full of zest and well 
worth the living. 1 To the Greeks, as to all men, pain was 
pain, sorrow and separation and death were real, and not 
to be mitigated by reflection. But they did not let them 
spoil the joys which they found or the ardor with which 
they followed their ideals. 2 

The Homeric religion was, on the whole, light-hearted; 

1 This is not true of all the Greek poets. Euripides, e.g., is a good deal 
of a pessimist. 

2 Cf . William James, Varieties of Religious Experience, p. 87: "The Greeks 
and Romans [did not have] any such desire to save the credit of the universe 
as to make them insist, as so many of us insist, that what immediately 
appears as evil must be 'good in the making,' or something equally ingen- 
ious. Good was good, and bad just bad, for the earlier Greeks. They neither 
denied the ills of nature, — Walt Whitman's verse, ' What is called good is 
perfect and what is called bad is just as perfect,' would have been mere 
silliness to them, — nor did they, in order to escape from those ills, invent 
'another and a better world' of the imagination, in which, along with the 
ills, the innocent goods of sense would also find no place. This integrity of 
the instinctive reactions, this freedom from all moral sophistry and strain, 
gives a pathetic dignity to ancient pagan feeling." 



GREEK AND ROMAN RELIGION 29 

the gods were generally kindly, except when specially pro- 
voked, the religious festivals occasions of gladness and feast- 
ing, dance and song — rather strikingly different from our 
drab and somber Sabbaths. 1 Chesterton, who, in spite of 
his (rather dubious) orthodoxy, is more pagan than Christian 
in spirit, would infuse gayety into our holy days. But what- 
ever we may say to that, we can admire the spirit immor- 
talized in Odysseus and his hardy mariners — 

"Souls . . . 
That ever with a frolic welcome took 
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed 
Free hearts, free foreheads." 

(3) Another marked aspect of the Olympian religion was 
its sophrosyne, its freedom from excesses of superstition or 
rite; it expressed and defended the enlightenment, intelli- 
gence, reasonableness, and order of Hellas, against the 
dark background of brutality and barbarism that ringed it 
about. There was in it a dignity and restraint, a distrust of 
brute power and unbridled passion, expressed in the motto 
MrjSev ayav, and called by us the classic spirit. The Hellenes 
waged no religious wars, never spurned the gods of other 
peoples and trampled upon them as the fanatical Hebrews 
and the Christians did. They sought a calm and sympa- 
thetic wisdom; the tales that grew up about their gods min- 
gle with their poetic interpretation of nature the embodi- 
ment of the Greek ideal of manhood and womanhood — that 
ideal of ripe physical perfection and all-round development 
which the Greek statues and the noblest Greeks themselves 
so adequately embodied. 

1 Of course there is another side to the picture. Some even of the Ionian 
rites and ceremonies were gloomy. Some of them were bloody and bar- 
barous, in spite of what I say in the following paragraph. In short, all re- 
ligions were more alike than in our love for sharp contrasts we are apt to 
suppose. But I am purposely emphasizing those aspects of the Olympian 
religion that constitute its differentia. 



30 HISTORICAL 

(4) But there was a more earnest side to Greek religion — 
its family piety and civic patriotism. To the Athenian the 
goddess Athene was the visible symbol of his beloved and 
beautiful city. Euripides makes Theseus cry out to his 
men when the Thebans pressed them hard, " O sons of 
Athens! if ye cannot stay this stubborn spear of the men 
sprung from the dragon's teeth, the cause of Pallas is over- 
thrown." Loyalty to the goddess " stood for the ideal of 
tempered and disciplined courage devoted to patriotic 
ends "; * like loyalty to the flag or sovereign to-day, it was 
a symbolic and imaginative way of expressing the important 
duty of patriotism, which drew men together, gave them 
something great and self-transcending to live for, and en- 
abled the Greek cities to attain to a high level of civiliza- 
tion. One who reads the biographies of Plutarch, who sees 
there what splendid devotion this civic religion bred, what 
glory it gave to life, who hears of the Spartan lads, from their 
childhood living for the larger life of which they were a 
part, not only ready, if necessary, to die for their country, 
but undergoing a daily discipline and self-denial for her, 
can never speak of this highest form of the pagan religion 
without reverence and wistful regret. 

The habit of self-examination and a vigorous pursuit of 
personal righteousness are our inalienable inheritance from 
Judaism; the spirit of love and compassion, together with 
much more, from Christianity. But to all this we may do 
well to add that natural courage and buoyancy of heart 
that we find among the Greeks, and that seems, together 
with the love of nature, the spirit of sophrosyne, and the 
inculcation of patriotism, to be somewhat lacking in the 
Hebrew and Christian Scriptures. 

Of course it would be foolish to imagine that this spirit 
1 Farnell, Higher Aspects, pp. 80, 81. 



GREEK AND ROMAN RELIGION 31 

possessed all of those early Greeks, as it would be to suppose 
that the spirit of Christ possesses all the inhabitants of 
Christendom. But as there is a certain spirit of inward as- 
piration, of self-forgetting love and compassion, which we 
call the Christian spirit, never completely realized — ex- 
cept in the Christ of Christian belief — but coming to 
flower here and there in some saint, and found in a degree in 
many an obscure and humble life, so the spirit which we find 
here and there in the best Greek literature and biography, 
and more strikingly and prevalently there than anywhere 
else, may fittingly be called the Greek spirit. 1 

What were the main currents in Roman religion? 

(1) The old Roman religion — called by later tradition, 
after the name of a mythical king, the Religion of Numa — 
was, like the temper of the people, less exuberant and 
imaginative, more serious and prosaic, than that of the 
Greeks. At first scarcely more than an agricultural reli- 
gion, concerned with the safety and fertility of crops and 
herds, and of their human owners, it became, perhaps 
through Etruscan influence, a strong civic religion, con- 
solidating the clanspeople and keeping them loyal to the 
little state. The Romans were, like the Hellenes, a branch 
of what is generally called the Aryan race; like them they 
were invaders, pushing themselves into a country already 
occupied. But their religion was far more primitive than 
that of their cousins. Their gods were simply the natural 
Powers about them, not as yet clearly anthropomorphic, 
and so with no mutual relationships, no detachment from the 
physical processes themselves. The Romans seem to have 

1 Or, if any one prefers, the Homeric or Olympian spirit. The reader 
must bear in mind that 1 have been dwelling upon but one particular phase 
of the enormously varied and confused religious life of Greece — ■ the phase 
of which the Homeric poems and the best Greek architecture and sculpture 
are the immortal expression. 



32 HISTORICAL 

had no theological or metaphysical curiosity; they were 
content to know nothing of their gods but their visible 
activity. Their interest was rather practical ; and their re- 
ligion consisted of a great mass of ancient observances, 
deemed necessary to keep these Powers assuaged. In Pro- 
fessor Carter's phrase, it was a " science of propitiating 
the right Power on the right occasion "; and the priest was 
the expert, the " legal adviser " in these practices. 1 We miss 
the picturesque pantheon of the Greeks, the poetry and 
charm and intimate friendliness of their gods; but there 
is a devoutness, an " earnest sobriety," a scrupulousness 
about the old family worship, and its expanded form, the 
state religion of adult Rome, that help explain the greatness 
to which Rome attained. The most prominent of the early 
gods were Vesta (the hearth) and the Lares and Penates 
(the protectors of the little holdings, of the house and its 
stores); later it was Jupiter Optimus Maximus, like the 
Jewish Jehovah a sky-god seen in storms and lightning, and 
the patron of the growing nation. 

This nature-religion remained very real to the Romans 
during the period of their waxing power, long after the 
Greeks had lapsed into skepticism and Oriental excesses. 
Polybius, writing in the second century B.C., says, " The 
most important superiority which the Roman state shows, 
it seems to me, lies in their religious faith; for I take it 
that that scrupulous fear of the gods that other peoples 
are being rather ashamed of is just what holds together the 
Roman state." 2 Ennius sums it up in his splendid line — ■ 

"Moribus antiquis stat res Romana virisque." 

It was this civic religion that made Rome what it was, 
and, decaying, let her empire also decay. From the legend- 
ary "pious iEneas" (pious, in that his reverence for the 

1 Religion of Numa, p. 70. 2 vi, 56. 



GREEK AND ROMAN RELIGION 33 

traditions of his country and his endeavor to perpetuate 
them formed the dominating purpose of his life) through 
the long roll of devoted citizens during the republic and 
early empire, until luxury and debauchery sapped their 
integrity and simplicity of heart, the religion of the Romans 
was a thing of power and majesty, a religion that gave a 
meaning, an inspiration, and a joy to life. It is easy to 
point out its failures and its superstitious side; it is more 
profitable to consider what sort of men, at its best, it bred- 

(2) Rome, however, with her expanding power, became 
too enlightened, too broadened, too sophisticated to retain 
her simple faith; the traders from Magna Graecia intro- 
duced the more interesting Greek gods, and these di noven- 
sides, " newly settled gods," gradually displaced the more 
shadowy di indigetes, the " indigenous gods." Presently 
Greek literature and art and mythology poured in upon the 
people and fascinated them with their brilliancy and beauty. 
So far as possible the two sets of gods were synthesized; 
some superficial resemblance led to the identification of 
Athene with Minerva, Artemis with Diana, Hera with 
Juno, Ares with Mars, and so on 1 — the result being a 
practical displacement of the native cult by the Hellenic, 
disguised and modified by the retention of the old names 
and many of the old rites. 

In many ways this Hellenization of Rome was of extreme 
advantage to her; but it made inevitably for a loss of the 
old sobriety and depth of faith. Greece already took her 
religion very lightly; and the spirit of skepticism and unrest 
spread rapidly in Rome. The more the galaxy of temples 
grew, the greater the number of cults introduced, the more 
elaborate the festivals and the more intoxicating the orgies 
of the semi-Oriental cults, the less religion really affected 

1 The equation of Zeus with Jupiter was really valid; the two names come 
from the same root. 



34 HISTORICAL 

the conduct of the people. The old religion had had, indeed, 
its repressive and cramping aspect, and the lightening of 
its yoke was not altogether an evil. Lucretius, who exulted 
in the decline of faith, described the earlier time as one 
in which " human life lay foully crushed to earth under the 
weight of religion," and declared that it was better " to be 
able to look at all things with a mind at peace." 1 But the 
waning of belief meant a decline of piety and a spread of 
laxity in morals. Virgil tells us, 2 "Right and wrong are 
confounded; so many wars the world around, so many forms 
of wrong " ; and Horace is witness to a state of cynical pleas- 
ure-seeking far removed from the simple and virtuous, if 
rude, ancestral tradition. 

Augustus attempted to restore the old state religion to 
something of its older and purer form; but he could not 
dislodge the Greek and Oriental cults or inject a genuine 
faith into the repetition of ancient rites. The old primitive 
nature-worship had lost its reality, the new and spectacular 
worships had no deep roots in the people's hearts. As times 
went from bad to worse, the confusion grew greater; deli- 
rious orgies of sensuous Eastern cults, the Phrygian Magna 
Mater, Egyptian Isis and Osiris, and the noble Persian 
Mithras, sought to satisfy that heart-hunger, that growing 
sense of sin and craving for salvation, which were to find their 
eventual satisfaction only in Christianity — Christianity, 
which would have made no appeal to the West in the old 
days, but was admirably fitted to meet the needs of the 
confused, wicked, and weary world of the Empire. 

G. Murray, Four Stages of Greek Religion. A. Fairbanks, Hand- 
book of Greek Religion. L. R. Farnell, Cults of the Greek States ; 
Higher Aspects of the Greek Religion. G. F. Moore, History of 
Religions, chaps, xvii-xx. A. Menzies, History of Religion, 
chaps, xiv, xvi. S. Reinach, Orpheus, chap, in, sec. i. P. V. N. 

1 De Rerum Natura, i, 62; v, 1194. 2 Georgics, i, 505-6. 



GREEK AND ROMAN RELIGION 35 

Myers, History as Past Ethics, chaps, x-xi. G. Santayana, Poetry 
and Religion, chap, in; also in New World, vol. 8, p. 401. L. Camp- 
bell, Religion in Greek Literature. G. L. Dickinson, Greek View 
of Life, chap. I. J. Adam, Religious Teachers of Greece. W. Pater, 
A Study of Dionysus, the Myth of Demeter and Persephone (in 
Greek Studies). J. E. Harrison, Prolegomena to the Study of Greek 
Religion; Religion of Ancient Greece. 

W. W. Fowler, Religious Experience of the Roman People. J. B. 
Carter, Religion of Numa; Religious Life of Ancient Rome, chaps. 
i-iii. A. Menzies, op. cit., chap. xvn. G. F. Moore, op. cit., 
chaps, xxi-xxii. Reinach, op. cit., chap, in, sec. n. T. H. Glover, 
Conflict of Religions in the Early Roman Empire, chap. i. W. Pater, 
Marius the Epicurean. G. Hodges, The Early Church, chap. i. 



CHAPTER III 

BUDDHISM AND ZOROASTRIANISM 

What was the soil from which Buddhism grew? 

Very different from the free and hearty life of the Greeks 
was the existence of the natives of India. A crowded popu- 
lation, a burning sun, fever and pestilence, wild beasts and 
poisonous reptiles, made life a continual struggle, and bred 
that sense of world-weariness that makes effort seem futile 
and paralyzes progress. The caste system kept the masses 
submerged; the luxury of the few jostled against the pov- 
erty of the many, from whom sorrow and pain were never 
far away. The meaninglessness and burden of life were only 
intensified by the widespread belief in transmigration, — a 
reincarnation of souls in form after form, with no aim, no 
advance, no goal, — to be dreaded, but hardly to be es- 
caped. A pessimistic view of life and a lorging for relief, 
rest, salvation from sorrow and sin are the background 
against which Buddhism stands with its welcome message 
of release and inner peace. 

It had not always been so in India. The early Aryan 
invaders, coming down from the Persian highlands, seem 
to have been a robust and normally happy folk, whose re- 
ligion consisted largely in the recitation of hymns of praise 
to their nature-gods. Their sacred books, the Vedas, con- 
tain these hymns, — which reveal an already highly devel- 
oped poetic skill, 1 — together with legends, speculations, 

1 The date of the earliest of the Vedic books is much in doubt. But con- 
servative scholars surmise that it may be around 2000 B.C. See Bloomfield, 
lect. i. 



BUDDHISM AND ZOROASTRIANISM 37 

laws, and precepts. The gods are for the most part kindly 
disposed, although there is little intimacy with them, little 
of that intermingling of gods and men that we find on 
Hellenic soil, or of the close fatherly love that characterizes 
the Hebrew Jehovah. In fact, these Aryan nature-gods, 
who in Greece were so thoroughly humanized, remain in 
India much more " transparent," i.e., more clearly im- 
personations of natural forces; so that the process by which 
their incipient personalities faded out into the engulfing 
Brahma, the Universal Spirit, the One Reality, was com- 
paratively easy. " Polytheism is decadent even in the hymns 
of the Rig- Veda themselves. It shows signs of going to seed 
for philosophy." 1 

It is impossible now to trace the process by which the gods 
lost what personality they had and were merged into the 
Brahma, or Atman, the One Cosmic Breath, Self, Power, 
Being. 2 The process doubtless covered many hundreds of 
years, and was the result of the philosophic spirit at work 
upon the naive nature-worship, a realization of the essential 
unity of Nature beneath her manifold and often discordant 
phases. Again, where the doctrine of transmigration came 
from we cannot say; it has cropped up in many lands, though 
it has nowhere else so obsessed a people as in India. But, 
at any rate, we find the pantheism, the belief in transmigra- 
tion, and the pessimism in the Upanishads and Brahmanas; 
they seem indelibly stamped, to this day, upon the Hindu 
people. To escape from the evils of life has been their 
summum bonum; and to the Brahman this escape, this sal- 
vation, can come only through the realization by the in- 
dividual of his essential identity with the One Great Being, 
the World-Soul, the Divine Life that contains no evil. 

1 Bloomfield, p. 230. 

2 On this, consult, besides the books cited at the end of the chapter, 
J. Wedgwood, The Moral Ideal, chap. n. 



38 HISTORICAL 

All else than this life is Maya, illusion, mere nothingness, 
and cannot matter. 1 With this intuition there supervenes 
upon the soul a great and holy calm which lifts it forever 
above the accidents of life. Fastings and observances, self- 
mortification, and a sort of auto-hypnosis lead to the goal, 
which is a killing-off of the life of impulse, passion, and de- 
sire, a submergence of self in the Infinite. 

What was the nature of Buddha's mission? 

Against such a background stands the life of Gautama, 
the Buddha. Born a prince, in the eastern valley of the 
Ganges, surrounded by luxury and wealth, with health and 
power at his command, he early recognized the futility of 
these material things for lasting satisfaction. When he 
awoke to realize the miseries of the poor and the weak, 
his heart yearned toward them, and he felt that neither 
rich nor poor had learned how rightly to live. At the age 
of twenty-nine he renounced his position and adopted — 
like St. Francis, centuries after him, and like Tolstoy in 
our own times — the life of poverty, which is the life of the 
people. Thus he set forth on his long quest for a way of 
relief for himself and his people; and seeking for years, with 
pure heart and passionate longing, he finally came to see 
that only in renunciation, in the abandonment of personal 
desires, in inward purity and loving service, could that 
relief be found. He gathered about him a group of mendi- 
cant disciples and went about teaching his great Secret 
until his peaceful death at an advanced age — some time 
in the earlier part of the fifth century B.C. The way of life 
that he taught has been the religion of more men and 
women than any other faith of historic times. 

It was in the simplicity and spirituality of his message 

1 This is precisely the note of Christian Science, and of the modern 
Transcendental philosophy, which borrowed from Hinduism. 



BUDDHISM AND ZOROASTRIANISM 39 

that its power lay. He was, like Christ, no reformer of out- 
ward conditions; he became early convinced that salvation 
lay not in any abundance of material goods. But the ideals of 
the Brahmanic priests were as empty as the worldly aims of 
the nobles and princes; not in fastings or bodily asceticism, 
in trances and ecstasies, not in rites or ceremonies or prayers 
to the gods, was peace to be found, not in speculation or in 
dogma. The solution of life was rather an inward change; 
the Way lay open to all, without regard to learning, to pos- 
sessions, to caste or race. Brahmanism was at once too 
subtle, too philosophical, and too formal, too exacting in 
its requirements. Few could rise to the realization of the un- 
reality of life and find peace in mystic union with Brahma; 
few could carry out the elaborate program of observances, 
or find lasting satisfaction therein. When Buddha was asked 
concerning the nature of the self, the cosmos, and the future 
life, he refused to answer; "because these inquiries have 
nothing to do with things as they are, with the realities we 
know; they are not concerned with the Law of Life; they do 
not make for religious conduct; they do not conduce to the 
absence of lust, to freedom from passion, to right effort, to 
the higher insight, to inward peace." l 

The Buddha's teaching was not, indeed, free from super- 
natural conceptions; growing up in the atmosphere of Brah- 
manism, as Christ did in that of Judaism, he could no more 
than Christ fail to reflect the ideas of his time. But they 
only outwardly affect his religion. The conception of trans- 
migration he adopted from contemporary belief; it was to 
a certain extent the vehicle of his teaching (as the expecta- 
tion of a coming Kingdom of God was the vehicle of Christ's 
teaching), but was not really essential to it. Buddhism is 
distinctly and explicitly a way of life, a way to salvation, to 
emancipation from sin and sorrow in this world, and is jus- 
1 Quoted by J. Estlin Carpenter, New World, vol. 1, p. 90. 



40 HISTORICAL 

tilled by its results without consideration of a future exist- 
ence. Nor did that expectation of reincarnation add the 
element of consolation; the future life was not thought of 
as a sudden transition to a state of bliss; and unless the 
weight of sorrow could be removed by a change cf heart 
in this life it would not be less in the next. The Nirvana that 
was longed for and looked forward to was the extinction of 
all restlessness and selfish desire, the perfect self-surrender 
and peace — an ideal perfectly natural to this life and in- 
hering in its needs. So this strange dread of reincarnation, 
which is implied in much of the Buddha's teaching, did not 
materially influence the way of life he taught or add to the 
value of his message. 

There is no belief in Providence in Buddhism; man must 
work out his own salvation in a world of law. Buddha 
may never have questioned the existence of gods; but he 
found them of no religious importance. He taught a means of 
deliverance which requires no belief in superhuman Powers 
and asks no help of them. In its pure and unadulterated 
form, Buddhism is one of the least superstitious and irra- 
tional of human religions. It teaches that salvation and 
peace are inward things, that the soul can be freed from the 
dominion of the body's ills, that happiness is to be found 
not in changing outer things but in changing ourselves. 

What were the striking aspects of Buddha's teaching? 

(1) Buddhism is not a virile religion, like the Greek or 
the Hebraic-Christian religion; there is a shadow over it, 
a sadness, and a sense of the vanity of worldly desires. 
Hence it is often called a pessimistic religion. But we must 
remember the environment into which it came; it did not 
bring sadness into life, it found it there; it does not invent, 
it acknowledges it. In this it is a far profounder and more 
adequate religion than that of the Greeks, which did not 



BUDDHISM AND ZOROASTRIANISM 41 

grapple with sorrow or seriously regard it. Buddhism, like 
Christianity some centuries later, brought a message to the 
weary, the troubled, the sick at heart. It is essentially a 
religion of deliverance. 

(2) The solution, the salvation, that Buddhism offers is 
a purely subjective one. There is no theodicy, no attempt 
to explain and justify the existence of evil, only a message of 
how to escape it. The cause of our suffering lies in the fact 
that our hearts are set upon objective things; the remedy 
lies in ceasing to care about them and learning to care only 
about what lies within our power, our own attitude of heart 
and will. 

"The treasure thus laid up is secure, and passes not away; 

Though he leave the fleeting riches of this world, this a man takes with him, 

A treasure that no wrong of others, and no thief, can steal." x 

The close parallelism between these verses and the fa- 
miliar saying of the Gospels will be noted by all readers. 
Like Christ, five hundred years after, Buddha called men 
to the life of renunciation, the life " ungrasping among those 
who grasp." Like Christ, and Paul and Luther, he swept 
away outward observances and demanded an inward change 
of heart as alone essential. 

(3) Buddhism emphasizes the importance of each mo- 
ment's act. The saying, "Whatsoever a man soweth, that 
shall he also reap," is closely paralleled in its scriptures; by 
an inexorable sequence of cause and effect we make our 
own future; each act and thought moulds us, makes us what 
we are to be, decides our future. In particular, it is forbidden 
to take life; the orthodox Buddhist will kill no animal, for 
food or in self-defense. It is forbidden to drink intoxicating 
liquors; Buddhism has been a bulwark against alcoholism. 
Sexual offenses, lying, and stealing are the other cardinal 
sins. The importance of watchfulness over our faults, 
1 Quoted by Rhys-Davids, Buddhism, p. 127. 



42 HISTORICAL 

meditation on holy matters, and continual re-consecration 
is never to be forgotten. 

(4) Duty is thus sternly emphasized. But equally promi- 
nent is the teaching of compassion and love. The Buddha 
was filled with tenderness toward all living things, and taught 
his disciples to be kind to animals, hospitable to strangers, 
and at peace with one another. "'Never in this world," he 
said, "does hatred cease by hatred; hatred ceases by love." 
And Buddhists have kept truer to this teaching than Chris- 
tians have to the similar commands of Christ. They have 
not persecuted their fellow men, established inquisitions, or 
set forth on crusades. In Burma, where the faith has been 
kept purest, it has bred a singularly gentle and peaceable 
folk, who call all men and all beasts their brothers, who give 
gladly, because it is sweet to give, and forgive heartily, be- 
cause it is best to forgive. 

"Let us live happily, then, not hating those who hate us! 
Let us live free from hatred among men who hate. 

"Let a man overcome anger by kindness, evil by good; 
Let him conquer the stingy by a gift, the liar by truth." * 

It is easy to point out defects in Buddhism. It has not 
energized its converts, being rather a sedative than a stim- 
ulant. It has not sought to redeem the social order, content- 
ing itself with pointing out a way of escape from a hope- 
lessly evil world. It is lacking in the Hebrew-Christian (or 
Zoroastrian) sense of the cosmic significance of morality, 
and the enthusiasm of enlisting in a divine war against sin 
and sorrow which is bound in the end to triumph. It taught, 
long before Christianity, the need of self-surrender and love; 
but it does not espouse them with the joyous abandon of 
the true Christian saints. Such wisdom of unworldliness 
as Buddha — and as Christ too — taught easily paralyzes 
1 From the Dhamma-pada. 



BUDDHISM AND ZOROASTRIANISM 43 

activity; and Buddhism did not have the good fortune to 
be taken up, as Christianity was, by peoples whose native 
energy should balance its unworldly teaching. We find in 
Buddhism a renunciation of things that are vital and im- 
portant in life. But we can forgive this cramping of the 
spirit when we see what a priceless comfort and blessing it 
has been to millions of its adherents. If it has not let loose 
the latent energies of men as Christianity has, — or is this 
because the Oriental is not so easily aroused to energetic 
action? — it is at least free from many of the faults that 
have marred the history of Christianity, from its arid and 
bitter controversies, and its militant intolerance. "Surely 
this is a simple faith . . . and to know that it is a beautiful 
faith you have but to look at its believers and be sure. If a 
people be contented in their faith, if they love it and exalt 
it, and are never ashamed of it, and if it exalts them and 
makes them happy, what greater testimony can you have 
than that?" 1 

Christianity and Buddhism are at heart in many ways 
akin; and we need not be disloyal Christians to reverence 
him who was first to find the way of peace for man, who 
first taught in immortal words the need of self-surrender 
and of charity, and whose own life was one of spotless 
purity, dignity, and peace. 

What was the subsequent history of Buddhism? 

Buddha, like Christ, left no written teachings; his dis- 
ciples wrote down from memory what they could recall, 
and to this were quickly added all sorts of semi-legendary 
traditions. A sacred literature thus arose, and a scripture- 
canon was formed, as with the Christian Testament — 
varying in its contents in the different countries to which 
Buddhism spread. The Buddha soon became a supernatural 
1 H. Fielding Hall, p. 50. 



44 HISTORICAL 

figure who had come to earth to share the lot of men, and 
with whom personal communion could be had. As, later, 
in the case of Christ, legends of miraculous birth and 
many wonders grew up around his memory and were de- 
voutly believed. Indeed, the similarity between the lives 
of these two, the world's greatest religious teachers, and 
between the beliefs of subsequent ages about them, is in 
many ways striking. Gautama the Buddha (or Enlightened) 
and Jesus the Christ (or Anointed), both men of rarely pure 
and compassionate nature, both inheriting the conceptions 
by means of which they taught, but infusing them with new 
inwardness and freeing them from formalism and observance, 
both holding out to men a way to salvation and peace, 
found that Way in its fundamental aspects identical. The 
two gospels, so much alike at the outset, were received in 
very different soil and met with a very different fate, 
Christ's teaching being taken up by the Grseco-Roman 
world, while Buddha's spread among the gentler but more 
stagnant Orientals; so that the existing systems which go 
by their names are now widely different from each other. 
But the original teaching of both transcended these limi- 
tations of time and place; both were in essence the message 
of a better way of life, but little affected by speculation and 
involving allegiance to no creed. The Way of both teachers 
was the Way of love and purity and self -surrender. Both 
teachers inspired great personal loyalty and soon came to 
be thought of as semi-divine, as coming from heaven to 
save men; of both were many miracles and marvels told, 
and with the teaching of both was incorporated a mass of 
contemporary and subsequent speculation. 

As in the case of Christianity, councils were held after 
Buddha's death to determine the rules and doctrines of the 
new order. Schisms arose; but the Way spread, and was 
adopted about 250 b.c. by the ruler Asoka, the Constantine 



BUDDHISM AND ZOROASTRIANISM 45 

of Buddhism. For a while intense missionary activity pre- 
vailed, the p'eriod of expansion lasting until the seventh 
century a.d. Then Buddhism was almost exterminated in 
India by the Mohammedan invasion and the renaissance of 
the older Hindu religion. In Ceylon, in Burma, Siam, and 
Tibet it is still the dominant faith; while in China and Japan, 
where the masses are nominally Buddhists, it has been more 
or less fused with the native religions. It is now again on 
the increase in India; and various propagandist movements 
have recently been organized there and in Japan — among 
them a Young Men's Buddhist Association, modeled after 
the Young Men's Christian Association. 

The question as to the future of Buddhism — which still 
probably outnumbers Christianity — is of great interest. 
Professor Rhys-Davids declares it probable that Buddhism 
will again become a great power in the East. If so, in what 
form — the later supernaturalistic or the primitive simple 
gospel — it would be hard to forecast. How much vitality 
the religion has, how well it can adapt itself to the truths 
of modern knowledge and absorb the contributions of other 
faiths — and whether, therefore, it will permanently share 
the world with Christianity and whatever other religions 
stand the test of time — only the future will show. 1 

What was the essence of Zoroastrianism? 

A few words must suffice for one other great Aryan faith, 

before we turn to the Semitic religions. Zoroastrianism was a 

reform of the old Persian religion, as Buddhism was of the 

Hindu and Christianity of the Hebrew religion. The ancient 

Persians were cousins of the old Aryan Hindus, and their 

1 For the question as to the future of Buddhism, see New World, vol.1, 
p. 89. For discussions of contemporary religious tendencies in India, see 
J. N. Farquhar, Modern Religious Movements in India; New World, vol. 1, 
p. 601; vol. 9, p. 451; American Journal of Theology, vol. 5, p. 217; vol. 
13, p. 589. 



46 HISTORICAL 

gods were closely similar to the Vedic gods. But instead of 
becoming enervated and depressed like the dwellers in the 
hot and fever-swept Ganges valley, they remained a vigor- 
ous and virile people, filled, indeed, with a sense of the om- 
nipresence of struggle, but of a struggle that was glorious, 
challenging, and assured of ultimate victory. Zoroaster, 
who lived, apparently, not long before the time of Buddha, 1 
was, like him, a reformer of great zeal and spirituality, very 
practical in his teachings, although more speculative in his 
bent. The Bible that contains his teachings, the Avesta 
(commonly called Zend-Avesta), is rather closely similar to 
the Vedas in language and in many of its conceptions. But 
an entirely different stamp has been put upon it, an entirely 
new direction given. 2 The old pantheon is not abolished, 
but is subordinated to two central figures, Ahura-Mazda 
(Ormuzd) and Angro-Mainyu (Ahriman), the Good God 
and the Bad God, who, with their subordinate spirits, have 
opposed each other from the beginning of time, and are 
the source, respectively, of all the good and bad in the world. 
In Zoroastrianism, then, the universal polytheism of 
primitive religions has become a sharp dualism; the sense of 
vivid contrast and of struggle permeates its thought and 
practice. Fertile land versus desert, light versus darkness, 
day versus night, joy versus pain, order versus chaos, truth 
versus error, goodness versus sin, life versus death — the 
universe is divided between the two great Powers, and its 
history is the history of their age-long struggle. In particu- 

1 His date remains uncertain. Indeed, there have been many who have 
deemed him a wholly mythical figure. But the tendency nowadays is to 
accept his historicity and the traditions that place him in the seventh cen- 
tury b.c, or a little earlier. Cf. Professor G. F. Moore, "No serious 
student any longer doubts that Zoroaster was an historical person." 

2 It is interesting to note in passing that the good god Deva of the Hindu 
religion has become a demon in Zoroastrianism. One suspects that to be 
because the Deva-worshipers rejected Zoroastrianism. 



BUDDHISM AND ZOROASTRIANISM 47 

lar, the soul of man is the scene of conflict. By every pure 
thought and good deed he forwards the cause of Ormuzd, 
by every weakness and sin he aids the powers of darkness. 
No man liveth unto himself alone; the whole cosmic system 
of which he is a fragment gains or loses with his moral 
victories and defeats — while the future life of the individual 
is determined by his guilt or merit here. The final decisive 
conflict is not far away, wherein Ahriman and all his cohorts 
will be routed, after which the reign of universal righteous- 
ness and peace will prevail. 

Thus, instead of renunciation and peace, Zoroaster taught 
the need of effort and reform; the evil in the world was to 
be not passively endured, but actively fought and banished; 
its presence was due not merely to our weakness and folly, 
but to an Evil Principle which we must all join in opposing, 
until it is finally overcome and human life is redeemed. 
There was rather little of ceremony in the religion, no 
temples or statues of the gods; but sacred fires were kept 
burning on the hilltops in honor of the great god whose 
loyal soldiers men must be. A bit of this sacred fire was 
carried to India by the Parsees who fled before the Moham- 
medan invasion, which in Persia, as in so many lands, wiped 
out the indigenous religion. In the region about Bombay 
they still hold to a faith which is a development of their 
ancestral Iranian cult. But in Persia itself the old faith is 
as dead as are the Olympian gods of Greece. 

M. Bloomfield, Religion of the Veda. A. Barth, Religions of 
India. E. W. Hopkins, Religions of India. P. D. C. de la Saussaye, 
Manual of the Science of Religion, chaps, lvtii-lxxxiii. G. F. 
Moore, History of Religions, chaps, xi-xiv. A. Menzies, History of 
Religion, chaps, xviii-xx. T. W. Rhys-Davids, Buddhism; Bud- 
dhist India; Dialogues of the Buddha. R. S. Copleston, Buddhism, 
Primitive and Present. P. Cams, Gospel of Buddha. Sir Edwin 
Arnold, The Light of Asia (poem). H. E. Warren, Buddhism in 
Translations. M. Miiller, ed., Sacred Books of the East, vol. x. 



48 HISTORICAL 

H. Hackmann, Buddhism as a Religion. H. F. Hall, The Soul of 
a People. P. V. N. Myers, History as Past Ethics, chap. vn. M. 
Monier-Williams, Brahmanism and Hinduism. Hibbert Journal, 
vol. i, p. 465. Hastings' Encyclopaedia, Schaff-Herzog Encyclopaedia, 
and Encyclopaedia Britannica, ad. loc. 

A. V. W. Jackson, Zoroaster. J. H. Moulton, Early Zoroastrianism. 
Encyclopaedia Britannica, and Schaff-Herzog Encyclopaedia, ad. loc. 
G. F. Moore, op. cit., chap. xv. S. Reinach, Orpheus, chap. 11, 
sec. ii. E. Rindtorff, Religion des Zarathushtra. J. Milne, Faiths of 
the World, pp. 91-121. J. Wedgwood, The Moral Ideal, chap. in. 



CHAPTER IV 

THE HEBREW RELIGION 

We must now turn our attention to that dramatic series 
of events that in an obscure corner of the Mediterranean 
coast developed a religion which has become the most im- 
portant in the world's history. Christianity is a develop- 
ment of Judaism; so, indeed, is Mohammedanism. All three 
have shown extraordinary vigor and vitality, so that the 
Aryan religions have steadily fallen away before the Se- 
mitic. But no one of these three would have existed, at 
least in its actual form, but for the peculiar history of that 
handful of tribes that formed the small but patriotic Jew- 
ish nation. 1 

How did the Hebrew monotheism arise? 

In the earliest days of the Jewish people that extant 
documents allow us to reproduce with any assurance, 2 we 
find them a loose aggregation of nomadic tribes, closely 

1 For Hebrew history see C. F. Kent, History of the Hebrew People; 
History of the Jewish People. C. H. Cornill, History of the People of Israel. 
H. P. Smith, Old Testament History. Encyclopaedia Britannica. 

2 See H. T. Fowler's History of the Literature of Ancient Israel. Our 
main source is, of course, the Old Testament itself. See S. R. Driver's or 
C. H. Cornill's or J. E. MacFadyen's Introduction to the Old Testament. The 
best editions of the Bible for historical study are: C. F. Kent's Students' 
Old Testament (the most accurate and up-to-date translation into English 
yet available, the books arranged partly in chronological and partly in 
topical order, introductions and textual footnotes, in six large volumes) ; 
P. Haupt, ed., Polychrome Bible (a new and admirable English version, with 
excellent explanatory notes; the different documents distinguished by dif- 
ferently colored backgrounds on the pages. Unfortunately publication has 
been stopped for financial reasons, with only a few volumes available); 



50 HISTORICAL 

akin in manners and religion to the less civilized of their 
Semitic cousins. In or about the thirteenth century B.C. 
they fought their way into the land of Canaan and merged 
with the earlier inhabitants, who were also a Semitic people, 
far more advanced in civilization and far less austere in 
their morals and religion. The Hebrew nation that emerged 
was thus of a mixed race, heir to the peaceful arts of the 
agricultural and city-dwelling Canaanites, but stamped with 
the purer and more ascetic ideals of desert life. An alert 
and ambitious people they were, with intense racial pride; 
a small nation, indeed, politically insignificant, and never 
very broad in their interests, but possessed with a belief 
in their own destiny. Their aspirations, at first largely 
political and worldly, became chastened by the rough 
handling of their stronger neighbors until they came to em- 
body, in their noblest representatives, an enthusiasm for 
spiritual perfection and a regenerated moral order on earth 
— the future Kingdom of God. 

The early Jews were as polytheistic as their neighbors; 1 

The New Century Bible (Frowde, New York) ; a series of small duodecimo 
volumes, using the R.V. text, with excellent introductions and explanatory 
footnotes : the best complete edition for students, in spite of the inferiority 
of the R.V. text to the more recent translations) ; The Bible for Home and 
School (The Macmillan Company. A similar edition, of about equal ex- 
cellence, as yet only partially published — fourteen Bible books at date 
of writing, 1914; R.V. text); R. S. Moulton, ed., The Modern Reader's 
Bible (R.V. text; the books somewhat rearranged, and their material 
printed in modern literary form, without the confusing conventional di- 
vision into chapters and verses. The one- volume edition, which is handiest, 
has the chapter- and verse-numbers in the margin. Literary introductions 
and notes. Excellent for the general reader; perhaps the most palatable 
form; but not adapted for historical study. The arrangement is rather 
arbitrary and not always based on solid critical grounds). 

Of the texts in common use, the R.V. (English Revised Version of 1881) 
is far more accurate than the A.V. ("Authorized" Version of 1611); the 
S.V. (American Standard Version of 1901), still more accurate; the S.V. is 
gradually supplanting the others. It retains the Elizabethan English as 
far as possible. 

1 Their very name for God — Elohim — was originally a plural. 



THE HEBREW RELIGION 51 

it was only gradually that their particular tribal patron 
Jehovah 1 overshadowed the others and became their One 
God. Many Biblical passages refer to the worship of other 
gods before, and indeed long after, the introduction of Je- 
hovah-worship — for Moses' attempt, similar to that of 
Mohammed, eighteen centuries or more afterward, to sim- 
plify his people's religion into a monolatry, was much less 
successful; although continued by the great prophets, it was 
not finally triumphant until after the political ruin of the 
nation. In the oldest of the Biblical decalogues, which no 
doubt most nearly represents the laws of Moses, the com- 
mandment is clear, "Thou shalt worship [henceforth] no 
other god; for Jehovah, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous 
god." 2 And in the older strata of the composite Biblical 
history we find signs of the preeminence given to Jehovah 
in the early post-Mosaic days — as in the ancient song 
preserved to us in Exod. 15:2-21, wherein we read: — 

"I will sing unto Jehovah, for he hath triumphed gloriously, . . . 
He is our God, and we will praise him, . . . 
Jehovah is a warrior, Jehovah is his name, . . . 
Who is like unto thee, Jehovah, among the gods?" 

But all through the days of the Hebrew state we read of 
the worship of many other gods proceeding side by side with 

1 The name was almost certainly "Jahveh" (pronounced Yah way), 
"Jehovah" resulting from a mistaken insertion of the vowels of the word 
" Adonai" into the JHVH which the old vowel-less Hebrew texts contained. 
But I retain here the familiar, if inaccurate, form "Jehovah." The render- 
ing "the Lord," in the older English Bibles, has no justification. The Jews, 
being forbidden to pronounce the name of their God, substituted this word 
"Adonai" for it when reading aloud in the synagogue service. The vowels 
of this word were written in, to remind the reader to use it. The transla- 
tors of the Greek version (LXX) used the word Kvptos, the equivalent of 
Adonai; and the English translators rendered it Lord. 

2 Exod. 34 : 14. The narrative which contains this decalogue (one of the 
J passages) was written about the ninth century B.C., i.e., about four hun- 
dred years after the time of Moses. But the decalogue, in approximately 
the same words, may date from Moses. The later decalogues — e.g., the 
familiar one in Exod. 20 — repeat the same commandment. 



52 HISTORICAL 

that of Jehovah. Joshua, we are told, begged his people, 
in an eloquent speech, to renounce their other gods, making 
the plea, so often used in later times, that it was Jehovah — 
Moses' God — who had led them out of the bondage in 
Egypt — an episode in their early tribal life which later 
generations continued to look back upon with a peculiar 
horror. "Now therefore put away, said he, the strange gods 
which are among you, and incline your hearts unto Je- 
hovah." 1 But in spite of the repeated denunciations of the 
Jehovah-enthusiasts, monotheism, so meager, so alien to 
the universal practice of antiquity, made slow headway; 
even as late as Ezekiel we find the complaint that the people 
still serve other gods, — "Ye pollute yourselves with all 
your idols even unto this day," — and the final exasperated 
cry, "As for you, O house of Israel, thus saith Jehovah: 
Go ye, serve ye every one his idols, and hereafter also, if 
ye will not hearken unto me; but pollute ye my holy name 
no more with your gifts." 2 Among these early gods were 
the Teraphim, images of ancestors (the Manes of the Ro- 
mans); and this ancestor- worship survived long after the 
settlement in Canaan. 3 Animals were worshiped also — the 
calf (or bull), the serpent, 4 and the local Baals, or agricul- 
tural gods of the Canaanites. The Old Testament books, 
compiled late in Jewish history, tend to hush up this ear- 
lier polytheism; but the actual situation is easy to read 
between the lines. 

As for Jehovah, he was, it seems, originally a storm-god 
of Mount Sinai. The etymology of the name is obscure; but 
a conjecture as good as any is that it meant " he who fells " 
— referring to the thunderbolts, which, as in the case of 

1 Joshua 24. Cf. also Gen. 35 : 2, 4. 

2 Ezek. 20. Cf. also chap. 23. 

3 Cf. Gen. 31:19,30-35. Deut. 26:14.' Judges 18: 20. 1. Sam. 19:13, 
16. Hos. 3:4. Jer. 16:7. 

4 Cf. Exod. 32: 4. 1 Kings 12: 28. 2 Kings 18: 4. 



THE HEBREW RELIGION 53 

Zeus and Jupiter, were his weapons. Various Biblical allu- 
sions show us that his home was long thought to be in the 
South; * and many passages connect him with clouds and 
thunder and rain. 2 He was, apparently, the god of the 
Midianites, among whom Moses had lived before he as- 
sumed the leadership of his people. There, according to 
tradition, Moses found him worshiped; there, after the 
flight from Egypt, he bound the people to him by a solemn 
covenant, at the foot of the sacred mountain, Sinai, where 
he dwelt; 3 and there he instructed them, following the 
counsel of his Midianite father-in-law, in " the statutes of 
Jehovah, and his laws." 4 On one occasion, at least, his 
Midianite wife knew better than he what Jehovah required. 5 
From this testimony, and because of other indications, 6 
there is strong reason for believing the tradition of two 
of the three Biblical documents 7 when they tell us that 
Jehovah was introduced to the Hebrews by Moses. 

At any rate, whatever historical value there may be in 
these accounts, and whether or not the Jews adopted the 
worship of Jehovah from the inhabitants of the Mount 
Sinai region, they early came to look upon him as their 
especial god, their patron and protector against the tribes 

1 Cf. Hab. 3:3-7. Judges 5: 4-5. 1 Kings 19: 8 jf. Deut. 3: 2. 

2 Cf. Ps. 29: 3-7; 18: 7-14; 68: 7-9, 33-35. 

3 Cf. Exod. 3 and 19. Jehovah speaks to Moses "out of the mountain." 

4 Exod. 18: 16. 5 Exod. 4: 24-26. 

6 Among other indications are these: The name Jehovah is not found in 
compounds before the time of Moses; the earliest prophets do not refer 
to the dealings of Jehovah with the pre-Mosaic patriarchs; the Midianites 
were long friends of Israel — Jael was one; and the fact suggested by the 
Cain story, that the Kenites (= Midianites) bore the mark (tattoo) of 
Jehovah (their ancestral god) upon them. 

7 E and P (cf., e.g., Exod. 3: 15; 6: 2). The J document, has Jeho- 
vah worshiped by the Hebrews from the beginning. But in view of the 
strong convergence of evidence to the contrary, we must reject this tradi- 
tion in favor of that held in "common by E and P. Besides, it is easy to 
see how the J tradition would arise, and much harder to conceive the 
emergence of the E and P tradition if J were right. 



64- HISTORICAL 

with whom they were at war. He was still but one of many 
gods whom they also honored, but through the supremacy of 
those who particularly worshiped him, he came to be the 
chief god; and, as always, among barbarous peoples in a pre- 
carious situation, the chief bond of union between the various 
Jewish tribes. We read that he had his especial habitation 
in a sort of wooden chest called the Ark, carried by his 
people with great pomp and ceremony, that he might fight 
for them and give them his protection and favor. 

Had all gone smoothly in Jewish history, the Jews might 
have remained as polytheistic as their contemporaries. 
They were not, indeed, nature-lovers, not imaginative or 
sympathetic, and would never have created a poetic myth- 
ology; they were intensely serious and practical by tempera- 
ment, and the only gods for which they had much use were 
those that they invoked to help them in battle. But they 
frequently lost in battle, and had all they could do to main- 
tain their existence. Many were, no doubt, the appeals 
from this or that band to invoke more zealously this or that 
god; but the Jehovah worshipers carried the day. There 
arose a sect that insisted that Jehovah alone could save 
them. They pointed to the escape from Egyptian bondage, 
under Moses, who worshiped Jehovah; and all the victories 
since that time they referred to Jehovah's help, their defeats 
to their defection from him to other gods and his consequent 
anger. Jehovah was most powerful; by loyalty to him alone 
could they be successful. 1 Instead of treating the other gods 
with the usual tolerance and good-fellowship, the Jehovists 
demanded the exclusive worship of their god; Jehovah was 
a jealous god, and would have no other gods beside him. 
Joining stern moral requirements with this demand, they 
gave to this Jehovah-worship the prestige of moral supe- 

1 Cf., e.g., Deut. 1: 30; 4:3-4; 5: 6-9; 6: 14-15. Ps. 44:5-7. 1 Kings 
16: 30-33; 18: 17-21. Hos. 11: 1-7. 



THE HEBREW RELIGION 55 

riority. Gradually the other cults were assimilated or stamped 
out; by the reform of Josiah (ca. 621 B.C.) Jehovah- worship 
became the only legal religion. 1 

As time went on, and Egyptians and Assyrians threatened 
the integrity of their little kingdom, priests and prophets 
preached more and more vehemently the need of devotion to 
Jehovah and to his commandments. Finally, as the hope of 
safety became dimmer and despair began to enter the hearts 
of the people, a conviction came to certain of the prophets 
that their danger lay not in the weakness of their god before 
the stronger gods of rival nations, but in his wrath at his 
own people for their disobedience. Unless repentance were in- 
stant, they proclaimed, he might use these nations for their 
chastisement; for he was a stern god and required loyalty 
to his laws. Never was the necessity of justice and purity 
preached more passionately than by these patriotic and 
earnest prophets of Israel, who. trusted in Jehovah to save 
them from their enemies, but felt that he required of them 
clean hands and a pure heart. 

Jehovah did not save them. But so dominant had this 
conviction of the prophets become that when finally the 
Jews were conquered and their leading men carried into 
exile, a strong party held to the belief that he had not been 
overcome, but had punished them for their sins. This belief 
grew during the Exile. A purified remnant of Jehovah's 
people, purged of their sins, were to return and finally es- 
tablish a kingdom based on that pure and moral worship 
which he demanded. So, at the actual return of the pious 
minority to Palestine, the Jehovah-worshipers were more 
completely in power than ever, and their insistence on 
morality more scrupulous. 

Through this thought, that Jehovah had used other na- 

1 The book of Deuteronomy, written in all probability shortly before 
this date, was the official code legalized at that time. 



56 HISTORICAL 

tions for his purpose of punishing the Jews, came the con- 
viction that he was not merely one of many gods, but the 
One Universal God; other gods were declared not only un- 
worthy of their allegiance, but actually unreal and non- 
existent. As the Jews grew from a collection of tribes to a 
flourishing kingdom, Jehovah was more and more invested 
with royal attributes; by the unknown prophet of the 
Exile (Is. 40-66) he was extolled as creator and ruler of 
the earth. Still more important, as attention was concen- 
trated more and more on moral ideals, the conception of 
Jehovah became ennobled until he grew from just such a 
capricious, and at times bloodthirsty, tyrant as most con- 
temporary deities were, to that just and merciful God that 
Christianity a little later proclaimed to the world. 

What are the striking features of the religion of the prophets 
and psalmists? 

Wherein was this Hebrew religion, at its best, superior 
to its contemporaries? Why was the Jehovah-cult of the 
Jews better than, say, the Moabite Chemosh-cult? Simply 
because it was more moral, more spiritual. Jehovah, at first 
principally useful in their eyes as a god of battles, 1 came 
to be the embodiment of their conscience. "Thus saith 
Jehovah," said the prophets, regarding their moral intuitions 
as his commands, and so as august and binding. The de- 
mand for exclusive allegiance to Jehovah meant practically 
a single-minded, whole-hearted devotion to righteousness. 
Even the cut-and-dried formalism of the post-exilic religion, 
that seems to us, as indeed it largely was, very petty and 
devitalized, meant to the devout a daily, unquestioning, 
faithful following of the Divine will. The Old Testament 

1 Cf. such passages as: "Through thee will we push down our enemies; 
through thy name will we tread them under that rise up against us. . . . 
Thou hast saved us from our enemies, and hast put them to shame that 
hated us" (Ps. 44:5-7). 



THE HEBREW RELIGION 57 

pictures vividly the increasing moralization of the Jewish 
religion. The prophets — who in early times were dervishes 
similar to those of many Semitic peoples, and notably of 
the later Mohammedans — became in Israel preachers of 
righteousness, a group of unsurpassed moral teachers, who, 
instead of abandoning the popular religion, as the Greek 
seers did, incorporated their new ideals into it, developed 
and ennobled it with their insight, and thus remain, next to 
Jesus, the chief religious inspiration of the Western world. 

The Jews, of all early peoples, cared the most for right 
conduct; their Scriptures, taken over by Christianity, are 
infused with this passionate interest. It is to this, above all 
other influences, that we of the modern world owe that in- 
grained hatred of sin, so foreign to the pagan world, which 
has helped the readers of the Bible through all these centuries 
to conquer their passions and rise above a brutish life. Other 
religions have an equal or greater share of miracles and mar- 
vels, of rites and ceremonies; but they lack the spiritual fire. 
It is this that gave Judaism its sublimity, its preeminence 
over contemporary cults, and now, transmitted to Christian- 
ity, makes the latter most worthy of our allegiance. 

We may, more specifically, mention three aspects of this 
Hebrew devotion to righteousness : — 

(1) It was, first and foremost, an ideal for the nation as a 
nation, a high conception of public morality, of God-fearing 
politics, of social justice. Prophets arose, under the stress 
of national suspense and agony, who denounced in ringing 
terms the oppression by the rich, the injustice and gluttony 
and lust of Jehovah's faithless people. These are the men 
who made Israel's religion great, — Elijah, standing up 
against a murderous king and demanding justice in the name 
of Jehovah; l Amos, proclaiming to the self-satisfied and as- 
tonished people that punishment would fall upon them 

1 1 Kings 21. 



58 HISTORICAL 

" because they have sold righteous men to pay a petty debt, 
because they trample on the heads of the poor, and mis- 
carry justice for the humble "; x Hosea, rebuking his fellows 
"because there is no truth, nor mercy, nor knowledge of 
God in the land. There is nought but swearing and break- 
ing faith, and killing, and stealing, and committing adult- 
ery." 2 "Cease to do evil," cried the great Isaiah, "learn 
to do well; seek justice, relieve the oppressed, defend the 
fatherless, plead for the widow." 3 In the humaneness of 
its provisions the Jewish code was far in advance of con- 
temporary legislation; 4 and the prophets looked forward 
ardently to a purged and transformed social order, wherein 
righteousness should rule in every relation of man to man. 
It was not merely the individual, but the national life that 
must be regenerated. For it is through righteousness, they 
held, that a nation lives and through the rottenness of sin 
that it perishes. 

(2) The crushing of the Jewish state put, for the time, a 
quietus upon these collective aspirations, concentrating 
attention upon personal purity and individual salvation 
— wherein was both a loss and a gain. But, indeed, the 
civic religion of the earlier prophets was a matter not of 
outward forms, but of an indwelling spirit. "For I desire 
mercy," said the prophets, speaking in the name of Jeho- 
vah, "mercy, and not sacrifice; and the knowledge of God 
more than burnt offerings." 5 " I hate, I despise your feasts, 
and I will take no delight in your solemn assemblies. Take 
thou away from me the noise of thy songs; I will not hear 
the melody of thy viols. But let justice roll down as waters, 

i Amos 2 : 7. Cf. also 3 : 9-10; 4 : 1-2; 5:15,6: 1-7; 8 : 4-7. 

2 Hosea 4: 12. Cf. also 7: 1-7; 12: 7-8. 

3 Isa. 1 : 16-17. Cf. also 1 : 21-28; 3 : 14-26; 5 : 8-13; 10 : 1-2. Mic. 2 : 1-2. 

4 See, e.g., Exod. 23: 11-12. Lev. 19: 9-18, 33-36; 25: 13-55. Deut. 
23:15-16; 24:10-22. 

5 Hos. 6:6. 



THE HEBREW RELIGION 59 

righteousness as a mighty stream." x "Trample my courts 
no more, bring no more vain oblations. I cannot endure 
wickedness coupled with worship. . . .Your hands are full 
of blood. Wash you, make you clean; put away the evil 
of your doings from before mine eyes." 2 

The unknown writers of the psalms were equally pos- 
sessed with this sense of the need of inward purity; the 
value of "a broken and a contrite heart" — a heart that 
knows its own weakness and sin and loathes it — a thought 
repugnant to paganism — had never elsewhere been ex- 
pressed as by them. The Greeks and Romans exalted the 
manly virtues — honor, integrity, temperance, courage, and 
patriotism; but one would search long to find in their liter- 
ature aspirations such as these: " Have mercy on me, O God. 
. . . Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse 
me from my sin. For I acknowledge my transgressions, and 
my sin is ever before me. . . . Behold, thou desirest truth 
in the inward parts; . . . Purge me with hyssop and I shall 
be clean; wash me and I shall be whiter than snow. . . . Create 
in me a clean heart, God, and renew a right spirit within 
me. Who can understand his errors? Cleanse thou me from 
secret faults. . . . Let the words of my mouth and the medi- 
tations of my heart be acceptable in thy sight." 3 

(3) Another noteworthy fact is that to the noblest Jews 
this imperious summons to righteousness was not a burden 
and a yoke, but a happiness above all others. "It is joy 
to the righteous to do righteousness." 4 The psalmists burst 
forth into rhapsodic celebrations of this joy:" Blessed is 
the man whose delight is in Jehovah's law." "I will de- 
light myself in thy commandments, which I have loved. 
Unless thy law had been my delight, I should have perished." 

1 Amos 5 : 21-24. 

2 Isa. 1 : 12-16. Cf. also Ps. 40: 6; 50: 7-23; 51 : 16-17. Joel 2: 13. 

3 Ps. 51 : 1-10; 19 : 12-14. « p rov> 2 1 : 15. 



60 HISTORICAL 

" The daughters of Judah rejoiced because of thy statutes, O 
Jehovah." "Oh, how I love thy law! it is my meditation all 
the day. . . . Thy testimonies are the rejoicing of my heart." * 

In short, righteousness is the great word of Judaism; the 
sense of its importance, the enthusiasm and joy in it that 
accepts it not as a necessity, but as a glorious privilege, is 
the great contribution of the Jews to the world. 2 

How did the Messianic hope arise? 

But this devotion to moral ideals was by no means all of 
their religion; there was also the hope of Jehovah's help. 
Through all their misfortunes they clung to the faith that 
he would in his own time confound their foes and vindicate 
the trust of the faithful. As they realized more and more 
their weakness and the might of their enemies, they came 
more and more to picture this overturn as accomplished by 
a striking and dramatic cataclysm. When this should be 
accomplished, these proud and powerful neighbors of theirs 

1 Ps. 1 : 1-2; 119 : 47, 92, 97, 111; 97 : 8. 

2 Cf. Rauschenbusch, p. 4: "The fundamental conviction of the prophets, 
which distinguished them from the ordinary religious life of their day, was 
the conviction that God demands righteousness and demands nothing but 
righteousness." 

And Matthew Arnold, Literature and Dogma, pp. 50, 326: "As long as the 
world lasts, all who want to make progress in righteousness will come to 
Israel for inspiration, as to the people who have had the sense for righteous- 
ness most glowing and strongest; and in hearing and reading the words 
Israel has uttered for us, carers for conduct will find a glow and a force 
they could find nowhere else. . . . Other nations had something of this 
idea, but they were not possessed with it; and to feel it enough to make the 
world feel it, it was necessary to be possessed with it." 

Arnold should have said, however, "come to the Bible for inspiration," 
rather than "to Israel." Probably not one in ten, or one in a hundred, in 
Israel ever had this passion for righteousness. The Bible writers are of 
those few. As in describing the "Greek" spirit I warned the reader 
that such a spirit actually possessed but few of the Greeks, so the "He- 
braic" spirit possessed numerically few Hebrews. But in both cases it was 
the few that counted in influencing the world's life. 



THE HEBREW RELIGION 61 

were to be cast into darkness, and Jehovah would reign 
on earth over the faithful remnant of his people, giving them 
the final reward of their fidelity, which they pictured in 
very material terms, as an earthly kingdom, with earthly 
pleasures, a glorification of Israel before the world. 1 

Many elements in their situation contributed to these 
pathetic popular hopes — their outward impotence under 
the galling yoke of their oppressors; their dogged belief in 
Jehovah's power; the memory of the golden age of David 
behind them, now idealized, and a constant spur to their 
ambitions; their lack of belief in a life after death. But some 
leader there must be, appointed by Jehovah, to establish 
this Divine Kingdom — some messiah 2 consecrated to the 
task of freeing the people and realizing for them their divine 
destiny. Some thought of him as a conqueror like David, a 
great military leader, who would put to rout their enemies 
and establish a world-wide rule. Others pictured him rather 
as a supernatural figure, to come on the clouds of heaven and 
judge the nations by the strength of Jehovah's right arm — 
Israel simply awaiting in passive prayer this miraculous de- 
liverance. Still others, and the noblest of the Jews, held that 
the people must first be transformed in their hearts and 
worthy of so great a salvation; only when they were faithful 
and pure enough would Jehovah manifest his power, and 
inaugurate the reign of peace and universal prosperity. 3 

1 See, e.g., Isa. chaps. 9, 11, 30: 18/., 40, 60, 65: 17/., 66: 18/. Mic. 4, 
7:7/. Amos 9:14/., Zeph. 3 : 8 /., Jer. 23 : 3 /., 30 : 18 /. Ezek. 34 : 1 1 /., 
37 : 21 /. 

2 The word "messiah" (translated in Greek into the word "christ") 
meant "anointed." Kings, prophets, and priests were anointed for their 
special work in the service of God; a messiah was, then, a man consecrated 
to some divine work. And The Messiah was to be The Man consecrated by 
God to this greatest of all tasks, of bringing in the Kingdom of God. 

3 See W. D. E. Oesterley, Evolution of the Messianic Idea. E. C. A. Riehm, 
Messianic Prophecy. F. J. Delitzch, Messianic Prophecies in Historical Suc- 
cession. C. F. Kent, Sermons, Epistles, and Apocalypses of Israel's Prophets, 
pp. 39-48. G. S. Goodspeed, Israel's Messianic Hope. 



62 HISTORICAL 

All of these variant dreams were gradually accepted by 
the piety of the people as authoritative. Attempts to recon- 
cile them were, of course, hopeless; but different groups 
pinned their faith to different aspects of the picture — while 
many, of course, were skeptical altogether. When and 
where and how should appear this Messiah? This prophet 
and that was looked to eagerly, but the Great Event came 
not yet; and the people, intense with expectation, exhorted 
by their prophets to repent of their sins before it should be 
too late to have a part in the New Order, chafing under their 
bondage, awaited their hero and savior. Orthodox Jews still 
await Him; liberal Jews have long ago become disillusioned 
and given up the fantastic hope. 1 But at the time when 
that hope was most intense, a small band, mostly of Galilean 
peasants, believed they had found this Messiah, this Christ, 
in the person of a young prophet named Jesus. 

J. P. Peters, Religion of the Hebrews. H. P. Smith, Religion of 
Israel. R. L. Ottley, Religion of Israel. W. E. Addis, Hebrew Reli- 
gion. A. Loisy, Religion of Israel. K. Marti, Religion of the Old 
Testament. A. Duff, Theology and Ethics of the Hebrews. J. C. 
Todd, Politics and Religion in Ancient Israel. L. B. Paton, Primi- 
tive Religion of Israel. K. Budde, Religion of Israel to the Exile. 
T. K. Cheyne, Jewish Religion after the Exile; The Two Religions 
of Israel. C. Cornill, Prophets of Israel. W. R. Smith, Prophets of 
Israel. L. W. Batten, The Hebrew Prophet. M. Buttenwieser, 
Prophets of Israel. G. Santayana, Reason in Religion, chap. v. 
S. Reinach, Orpheus, chap. vn. W. Rauschenbusch, Christianity 
and the Social Crisis, chap. i. New World, vol. 4, p. 98. Biblical 
World, vol. 42, pp. 234, 305, 373; vol. 43, p. 44. Kautsch, in 
Hastings' Bible Dictionary, extra volume, p. 612. 

1 For the present status of the Jewish religion see New World, vol. 4, 
p. 601. 

For the period between the Testaments, see C. H. Toy's Judaism and 
Christianity. W. Fairweather, Background of the Gospels. R. H. Charles, 
Religious Development between the Old and New Testaments. 



CHAPTER V 

JESUS THE CHRIST 

What are the sources of our knowledge of the life of Christ? 

In studying the history of the founding of Christianity, as 
in the case of all religious history written by the believers 
themselves, we must beware of accepting at its face value 
whatever is told us by the narrators. As notably in the tra- 
ditions of their own history that the Jews treasured in their 
sacred books, so in the Christian tradition legendary ma- 
terial has crept in, and events have been unconsciously col- 
ored and warped in accordance with later religious concep- 
tions. If we honestly desire to know what can now be known 
of the Great Teacher whose name has become, to us of 
" Christendom," synonymous with virtue itself, we must be 
willing to look through the veil of mist which the religious 
veneration of centuries has drawn about him and study the 
records that remain to us of his life as we would study those 
of any other great religious leader — Buddha, Confucius, 
St. Francis — sifting the historical from the legendary, 
allowing for the evident bias of biographers, and deducing 
only what can legitimately be deduced from the confused 
and scanty material we have to draw upon. 

At the outset we must face the fact that outside of a small 
band of followers, mostly illiterate fisher- and peasant-folk, 
Christ made no impression upon his times. His public career 
lasted probably not over a year and a half, and was spent, 
except for the last few days or weeks, in the out-of-the-way 
province of Galilee. To the priests and Jewish upper classes, 
as to the Roman officials, that brief and humble career was 



64 HISTORICAL 

not distinguishably different from those of the numerous 
other contemporary reformers and agitators. The outside 
references to Christ — brief allusions by the Jewish histo- 
rian Josephus (by many considered spurious) and the Ro- 
man authors Tacitus, Suetonius, and Pliny — are scarcely 
enough even to testify to the fact of his existence, since they 
doubtless merely accept the belief of the early Christians in a 
historic Jesus who was crucified by Pontius Pilate. But the 
witness of Paul, our earliest source, is quite enough to guar- 
antee his historicity; for Paul, though he never knew Jesus 
in the flesh, must have talked, a very few years after his 
death, with many who had known him well. He tells us, in 
his few extant letters, nothing to speak of about the earthly 
life of Jesus; but he is witness to the extraordinary impres- 
sion that Jesus had made upon his little circle of disciples. 
And fortunately there is material enough in the three Syn- 
optic Gospels to enable the skilled historian to reconstruct 
with considerable assurance the historic figure of Jesus and 
the main events of his public life. Such a reconstruction has 
been made, with infinite pains and loving care, by the coop- 
erative efforts of many modern scholars. Except for a few 
mooted points — and principally those affected by dog- 
matic considerations — there is now a pretty general agree- 
ment among reliable historians as to the probable facts of 
his career and the cardinal points of his teaching. 

Besides the Synoptic Gospels there are some fragments of 
non-canonical narratives; these, however, are mostly late 
and of very dubious authenticity; at best they add little of 
importance to the picture. The Fourth Gospel is now gen- 
erally conceded to be later than the Synoptics, and rather 
theological than historic in its interest. Written to set forth 
the view of the author l as to the nature and mission of 

1 The author's name may have been John; but (pace some conserva- 
tive scholars who still cling to the traditional view) he was certainly not the 



JESUS THE CHRIST 65 

Christ, it is valuable in showing the tendencies of early 
Christian theology, for its intrinsic charm and sweetness, 
and for its insight into the meaning that Christ's life had and 
was to have for his followers. But it is of little value in 
helping us to get an idea of the real Jesus as he lived and 
taught on earth. The book was probably not intended to 
be taken as a literal record of events, but as a dramatic pic- 
ture illustrating and explaining the author's conception of 
Jesus as the Logos (Word) or Earthly Manifestation of God. 
The literary device, by which speeches and acts are attrib- 
uted to Christ in accordance with what the author conceived 
that he might have said and done, was not uncommon or 
considered illegitimate in those days. Indeed, it was the 
common practice of ancient historians. 

We are thrown back, then, upon the three Synoptic Gos- 
pels, as, practically speaking, our only source. The first 
and third of these were composed by combining the Mark 
biography (itself evidently a compilation of traditions rather 
than a first-hand narrative) with a collection of Sayings of 
Christ (together with certain other scattering material, 
particularly in the Third Gospel). The collection of Say- 
ings, which tradition attributes to the Apostle Matthew 
(whence his name has become attached to the Gospel that 
makes greatest use of it) exists now only as it has been in- 
corporated into our Gospels. As they stand, "Mark" dates 
from 70-75 a.d., "Matthew" and "Luke" from five to 
twenty years later. That is to say, the earliest extant docu- 
ment recording the facts of Christ's life and teaching dates 
from about forty or forty-five years after his death. The 
repetition of its incidents in the parallel narratives of the 
other Gospels is of no corroborative value, since the authors 

disciple. See E. F. Scott, The Fourth Gospel, its Purpose and Theology. 
J. Warschauer, The Problem of the Fourth Gospel. B. W. Bacon, The Fourth 
Gospel in Research and Debate. 



66 HISTORICAL 

simply copied from Mark. No one of the Gospels was 
written by a personal friend of Christ or eyewitness of the 
events of his life. 1 



What were the salient events in his life? 

Jesus was the oldest of at least seven brothers and sisters. 2 
Wherever he may have been born, 3 he was brought up, as a 
carpenter, or house-builder, at Nazareth in Galilee, and 
known all his life as a Nazarene. Of his youth we know prac- 
tically nothing, save that he must have become deeply 
versed in his national Scriptures and filled with the expecta- 

1 It is needless to point out that forty years is long enough for the legend- 
ary element to have grown to any length. Witness Bonaventura's life of 
St. Francis, dating likewise from forty years after that Saint's death, and 
replete with marvel and miracle. Parallel cases could be cited from every 
field of religious history. 

See P. Wernle, Sources of Our Knowledge of the Life of Jesus. V. H. 
Stanton, The Gospels as Historical Documents. F. C. Burkitt, Earliest 
Sources for the Life of Jesus; The Gospel History and its Transmission. 
E. F. Scott, The Apologetic of the New Testament. 

The best Introductions to the New Testament in English are those of 
G. A. Julicher, B. W. Bacon, J. Moffatt, G. B. Gray, and A. S. Peake. 
The translation of the New Testament by J. Moffatt (3d ed., 1914) is per- 
haps the best to date. The Twentieth Century New Testament (F. H. Revell 
Company) and R. F. Weymouth's Modern Speech New Testament are ver- 
sions in modern colloquial English, useful in clarifying obscure sayings. 
See further the remarks on editions of the Bible on pp. 49-50. A good Har- 
mony of the Gospels is useful in making it easier to trace the development 
of the tradition from Gospel to Gospel; J. M. Thompson's Synoptic Gospels 
is the best to date. 

2 Mark 6: 3. 

3 The birth- and infancy-stories with which the First and Third Gospels 
are now prefaced are later than the bulk of those Gospels; together with 
the resurrection-stories at the end, they are called by scholars The Outer 
Envelope. See Holtzmann, chap, iv; Reville in New World, vol. 1, p. 695 
(also in his Vie de Jesus, unfortunately not translated). For the question 
of the virgin birth see P. Lobstein, Virgin Birth of Christ. J. E. Carpenter, 
Bible in the Ninteenth Century, pp. 480-97. O. Pfleiderer, Primitive Chris- 
tianity, Eng. tr., vol. n, pp. 504-10; also American Journal of Theology, 
vol. 10, p. 1. 



JESUS THE CHRIST 67 

tion of the imminent fulfillment of the hope of Israel. 1 At 
the age of about thirty he was attracted by the vigorous 
preaching of another young man named John, who had 
drawn quite a following about him and was called "The 
Baptist" (or "Baptizer"), from a rite of purification from 
their sins which he enjoined upon his disciples. John was a 
striking figure, a reincarnation of the old spirit of the proph- 
ets, forceful, ascetic, severe in his denunciations of the sins 
and injustices of the people, solemn in his warning that they 
must not count on their descent from Abraham to insure 
them participation in the speedily coming Messianic King- 
dom; only those who were found worthy would be admit- 
ted, and immediate repentance was imperative. Jesus was 
among those who submitted to his rite of baptism; 2 and, 
according to the tradition, it was at that moment that he 
became conscious of his mission. John was soon thereafter 
thrown into prison, and presently executed, by the ruler of 
the country. But Jesus took up the role of prophet, with the 
summons he had heard on the Baptist's lips, "Repent ye, 
for the Kingdom of God is at hand ! " 3 

By the vigor of his preaching and the force and charm of 
his personality, Jesus quickly attracted attention and gath- 
ered disciples about him, as John had done. Moreover, he 
soon found himself possessed in a remarkable degree of the 
power to work what we should call faith-cures, and was 
surrounded by an eager crowd of health-seekers. In his own 
home, Nazareth, he was, indeed, received with jeers; and the 
narrator tells us frankly that he was unable to perform many 
cures there because of their lack of faith. But in the lake- 
side towns, some miles away, he created quite a stir; and 

1 The incident recorded in Luke 2 : 41-52 illustrates, if it is historical, 
his early interest in religion. 

2 Jesus seems never to have administered baptism; but the earliest dis- 
ciples did. See E. F. Scott, Beginnings of the Church, chap. vn. 

3 Mark 1:14. Matt. 4:17. 



68 HISTORICAL 

there most of his preaching was done. Jesus himself seems 
to have sought to avoid too much healing activity, whether 
because it tended to bring him, like John, too dangerously 
into Herod's notice, or simply because it interfered with the 
preaching which he had more at heart. The burden of his 
message was the call to repentance, and his favorite method 
the illustration in incomparable parables of the inner qual- 
ities necessary to - insure participation in the imminently 
approaching Kingdom. 

Outwardly, then,\he seemed a prophet like John, though 
of a gentler and more spiritual nature. 1 But in his own heart 
he came to believe himself, it is impossible now to be sure 
when or how, 2 the lon^-awaited Messiah; or rather the 
Messiah-elect, who in God's own time would be endowed 
with supernatural power to bring in the New Age. 3 At first 
he told no one of this secret belief in his own destiny. But 
when Peter, the most ardent and impulsive of his followers, 
expressed the same conviction, he did not deny it, enjoining 
silence, however, upon his disciples until "his time should 
come." 4 Meanwhile he was content to pass from village to 
village, winning as many as he could from their heedlessness 

1 It is significant that the people took him for John redivivus. "Who do 
men say that I am? And they told him, saying, John the Baptist; and 
others Elijah; and others, One of the prophets." Mark 8: 28. 

2 The tradition puts his "Messianic conviction" at the time of the 
Baptism. But many scholars believe that it took possession of him only 
later, at the height of his success, in connection with his inevitable recog- 
nition of his mental and spiritual supremacy over his fellows. 

3 This by no means implied that he equaled or identified himself with 
God. It is needless to point to such verses as Mark 10: 18, "Why callest 
thou me good? None is good save One, even God"; it suffices to realize 
what the Jewish conception of the Messiah was — a more or less glorified and 
supernaturally endowed figure, but absolutely distinct from God himself. 
The question of the divinity of Christ will be discussed below, on p. 142 ff. 

The Greek word xP l<TT ° s > by the way, which has been transliterated 
into our Christ, means he-who-is-to-be-anointed — i.e., the Messiah-elect — 
rather than one who is now playing the part of Messiah. 

4 Mark 8: 29-30. 



JESUS THE CHRIST 69 

and sin, teaching them the Way of life that he believed to be 
in harmony with God's will, and awaiting in perfect faith 
the time when he should be called upon to play his glorious 
Messianic role. 

The first flush of his success, however, soon paled. The 
scribes were offended from the beginning because he assumed 
their role of authoritative interpreter of the Scriptures, 
while scorning their minute and hair-splitting casuistry. 
The Pharisees, the orthodox of their day, were scandalized 
because he refused to keep the proper fasts, to observe the 
Sabbath punctiliously, to refrain from eating with the " un- 
clean." Their distrust and hatred of Jesus were quickly 
matched by his fearless and outspoken rebukes of their 
hypocrisy and self -righteousness; and the rupture thus 
brought about grew steadily greater. There are indications 
in the Gospel narrative that many of his temporary adher- 
ents deserted him, and that at times he was even forced to 
flee the country by the threats made against him. The 
Galilean mission bade fair to dwindle into insignificance; and 
when he finally left his home-country and "set his face stead- 
fastly to Jerusalem," — well aware of the fate that probably 
awaited him at the capital, — it was with a bitter denuncia- 
tion of the hard-heartedness and unbelief of the towns where 
his preaching career had been spent. 1 Something more dra- 
matic must be done; matters must be brought to a head, 
the crisis evoked — and that could only be at the holy city; 
— "I must go on my way . . . for it cannot be that a prophet 
perish out of Jerusalem." 2 

It is possible that Jesus expected, when he went to Jeru- 
salem, at the time of the feast of the Passover, that Jehovah 
would intervene there dramatically to vindicate him by in- 
vesting him with the Messianic powers. But there are indi- 
cations that he had already become convinced that he must 
1 Matt. 11 : 20-24. 2 Luke 13 : 33. 



70 HISTORICAL 

first suffer and die, and was only then to come, from heaven, 
in the spectacular manner of the popular expectation. For 
this he could find Scriptural warrant. The descriptions of 
the " suffering servant " of Jehovah, 1 although originally re- 
ferring to the people of Israel as a whole, were currently 
taken as prophetic descriptions of the coming Messiah, and 
were doubtless applied by Jesus to himself. He could take 
these predictions of a "man of sorrows" as referring to the 
preliminary phase of his appearance, and so harmonize them 
with the glorified pictures of the triumphant Messiah to be 
found elsewhere in the Scriptures. Thus by his rejection and 
death should the humble and faithful be clearly separated 
from the hard-hearted and unbelieving, and all the Scripture 
be fulfilled. 2 At any rate, he did not falter. His first act was 
to drive out from the Temple, with the aid, probably, of his 
little band of loyal followers, the money-changers and 
sellers of sacrificial animals, who, to his mind, were shock- 
ingly out of place within the sacred precincts. And it 
was, in all probability, this impetuous act, incurring, as it 
must have incurred, the anger of the priests and all 
maintainers of the established order, that actually brought 
about his death. 

From that moment the Jewish authorities sought for an 
unimpeachable excuse for putting Jesus out of the way. He 
had, however, doubtless awakened considerable popular 
interest in the city; and they hesitated to incur any wide- 
spread resentment. But before many days one of his in- 
timate circle of disciples himself gave them their handle. 
Become skeptical, probably, of Jesus' pretensions, and with 
that, of course, angry at his presumption, or possibly with a 
blind trust in them and an impatience to bring on the de- 
nouement, Judas betrayed his secret claim to the Messiah- 

i See Isa. 42: 1-9; 49: 1-6; 50: 4-9; 52: 13; 53: 12. 
2 Cf . Matt. 26 : 56. 



JESUS THE CHRIST 71 

ship to the priests. 1 Such blasphemy deserved death. He 
was arrested, brought before the council, and asked point- 
blank if he was the Messiah. He answered, " I am. And ye 
shall very soon see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand 
of power and coming on the clouds of heaven." 2 To the 
priests — indeed to any one save the few who had come 
thoroughly under the spell of his personality — such an 
assertion on the part of a humble and unknown Galilean was 
the most impudent and outrageous sacrilege. The crowd 
turned against him; and he was hustled off, amid jeers and 
insults, to an ignominious fate. We are told of his agony of 
spirit in the garden where he was arrested, and can guess the 
bitter doubt that found utterance in the despairing cry from 
the cross, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken 
me! " 3 But he conquered his weakness, bowed to the Divine 
plan, and met his death serenely, a martyr to his faith in his 
own destiny. Surely the pathos of human blindness and 
blunder was never more tragically exemplified than at this 
moment when the leaders of the Jewish people misprized and 
sentenced to death, in the flush of his early manhood, the 
noblest and rarest of their sons, the man of whom a cen- 
turion, standing by at the end, in the late afternoon of that 
April day, and catching his last words, "Father, into thy 
hands I commend my spirit," is reported to have said, 
"Truly this man was son of a god! " 4 

1 This seems the most probable explanation of the "betrayal." The 
information of Judas would not have been necessary to disclose his 
whereabouts, since he was teaching daily in public, and could easily be 
followed to his sleeping-place. 

2 Mark 14 : 62. Matt. 26 : 64. The phrase translated in the older ver- 
sions "henceforth," or "hereafter" (air' (LpTi), means rather "soon," or 
"presently." This prediction is in consonance with a number of other 
reported sayings of Jesus. 

3 Mark 15 : 34. 

4 Or " a Divine Hero " — i.e., one of the innumerable divine or semi- 
divine beings whose existence the pagan mind accepted. This reported 



72 HISTORICAL 

What were the striking features of Christ's personality? 

Of the resurrection-faith — that startling conviction that 
thrilled the little band of believers and became the corner- 
stone of a new community — we shall presently speak. But 
with the closing-in of Good Friday night the curtain fell on 
the life-work of him who is generally conceded to be the 
greatest of earth's saints and seers. 1 Such as we have 
sketched them, or not far different, we must conceive the 
main facts of his life to have been — a brief flash of light in a 
dark and confused age. But this is not all the story. To the 
world of the past nineteen centuries that life has been the 
type of human excellence, the ideal and pattern of the life of 
the spirit. And it is fitting that so it should be. For more 
significant than the outward course of his young life, so 
tragically cut short, is the secret of his personality, which 
has so steadily dominated the religious consciousness of men. 

But the historic Jesus that emerges to our view as the 
result of the modern historical study of the Gospels is a very 
different figure from the effeminate Christ of mediaeval art 
or the misty God-man of traditional dogma. It is rather a 
dominating and grippingly human personality — strong, 
fearless, stern, passionate in exhortation and rebuke; and 
yet with a rare purity and sweetness, a penetrating faith in 
sinful men, and a boundless love. The longer one lingers over 
the Gospel narratives, the more one comes to comprehend 
the remarkable personal impression which he made upon the 

remark of the Roman soldier has nothing, of course, to do with the much 
later theological belief suggested to the modern reader by its usual Eng- 
lish rendering, "the Son of God." Luke 23: 46. Mark 15: 37-39. 

1 For appreciations of Christ's personality on the part of those who have 
no belief in his supernatural character, see, e.g., J. S. Mill, Theism, pt. v. 
Matthew Arnold, Literature and Dogma, chap. in. Emerson, "Divinity 
School Address" (in Nature, Addresses, and Lectures). E. Renan, Life of 
Jesus, chap. 28. 



JESUS THE CHRIST 73 

hearts of those who knew him well and the heroic devotion 
which he aroused. 

(1) Perhaps his most marked trait was his eagerness to 
save the lost, his yearning sympathy for all who might be 
brought to repent and live the better life. He mingled gladly 
with sinners and outcasts, not to rebuke them or to weep 
over them, but joining heartily in their merriment, sitting 
with them at table, and summoning them gently to their 
heritage in the Kingdom. Little children were brought to 
him to be blessed, and the sick flocked to him to be healed. 
For all who were humble and open-hearted, who hungered 
and thirsted after righteousness, however far they might be 
from grace by any conventional standards, he had a tender 
compassion, a wide and forgiving love. " O Jerusalem, Jeru- 
salem, which killeth the prophets, and stoneth them that are 
sent unto thee! how often would I have gathered thy chil- 
dren together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under 
her wings, and ye would not." 1 Of a young man we are told, 
" And Jesus, looking upon him, loved him." 2 

(2) In spite of his freedom from asceticism and formality, 
his readiness to mingle with ordinary unpretending and sin- 
ful people, he lived himself a life of stainless personal purity. 
Through his absolute allegiance to the will of God as he con- 
ceived it, — expressed in the famous utterance, "Not my 
will but thine be done," and kept aglow in his heart by long 
hours of solitary prayer, — he was able to reject every temp- 
tation to ease or personal aggrandizement, and, in spite of his 
sensitive nature and frail physique, 3 to keep unflinchingly 
in the path of his duty, even when it led to a torturing and 
undeserved death. The verdict of his disciples was that he 

1 Matt. 23:37. 2 Mark 10: 21. 

3 This is clearly shown by the fact that he was unable to carry his own 
cross (or the transverse beam of it), as was usually done by the condemned; 
and by his quick death — strong men being able to stand the pain of cruci- 
fixion for many hours, or even several days. 



74 HISTORICAL 

was " not one that cannot be touched with the feeling of our 
infirmities; but one that hath been in all points tempted 
like as we are, yet without sin." 1 

(3) Naturally of a happy and peaceful disposition, — see 
how the breath of the Galilean spring breathes through his 
earlier utterances, — he blazed into anger when confronted 
with hypocrisy and self-righteousness, with the selfish and 
scheming orthodoxy of the scribes and Pharisees. In sharp- 
est contrast with his pity for the downcast and erring is his 
sternness with the hard-hearted and callous. He did not hesi- 
tate, when necessary, to use physical violence to end evil 
practices; witness the episode of the cleansing of the Temple. 
" Think not," he said, " that I came to bring peace on the 
earth; I came to bring not peace, but a sword!" No wonder 
the people took him for Elijah or John the Baptist. 2 

(4) His insight into human nature, his direct, straight- 
forward perception of moral truths, together with his nat- 
ural talent for expression, gave him a felicity of utterance 
which has never been surpassed. Capable upon occasion of 
subtle argumentation, overflowing now and then into genial 
humor, biting irony, or flash of wit, but in general homely in 
his language, and free from the useless verbiage of the 
schools, keen and quick at epigram and paradox, with a gift 
at simile and parable, his sayings remain to-day among the 
most memorable — many of us would say the most memor- 
able — of the spiritual teachings of all times. Free from all 
servitude to the orthodoxy of his day, following always his 
own vision, and calling to his disciples, " Why of yourselves 
judge ye not what is right?" 3 his words must have been of 
rare stimulating power. He uttered few truths, if any, that 

1 Heb. 4:15. 

2 See, for instances of his fierce and scornful invective, Matt. 11 : 20-24; 
10: 12-15; 10: 33-37. Mark 10: 25. Luke 6: 24-25. Matt. 23. 

3 Luke 12: 57. 



JESUS THE CHRIST 75 

had not been expressed before; but in the clarity, terseness, 
and limpid simplicity of his phrasing, rid as it is of so much 
that repels or mars the vision in the utterances of earlier 
and later teachers, we have reason enough to understand 
how his auditors "wondered at the words of grace which 
proceeded out of his mouth." x 

What were the striking features of his teaching? 

Every great teacher must express his insight in the lan- 
guage and conceptions of his time and people — else he will 
not be understood, and will have no influence. Jesus was 
a Jew 2 of nineteen centuries ago, preaching to men whose 
minds were steeped in a very peculiar and local Weltan- 
schauung, scarcely intelligible to us save by considerable 
historical study. His mind was, of course, moulded by the 
environment in which he grew up, and his concepts were 
those of his countrymen in the first few decades of our era. 
To understand him, therefore, we must take into account 
the meaning that his words would have for his auditors, and 

1 Luke 4: 22. Cf. W. Bousset, What is Religion? p. 217: "The Jewish 
Rabbis had, indeed, said all that Jesus said; but, unfortunately, they said 
so much else besides. . . . The classic is always the simple." 

2 The Galileans were, to be sure, of mixed race; and it is possible — if 
that possibility is of any comfort to any one with anti-Semitic prejudices! — 
that his ancestry was partly Aryan. But, indeed, the Jews are among the 
finest of human stocks. 

The Davidic genealogies in Matthew and Luke are of no historic value, 
as is shown by the fact that they contradict each other hopelessly. (And 
both, by the way, purporting to derive Jesus' descent from David through 
Joseph, are utterly at variance with the virgin-birth idea, which rejects 
Joseph as Jesus' father.) If there had been in possession of the family a 
record of descent from David, another and mistaken genealogy could 
hardly have obtained circulation. The two variant genealogies were, of 
course, the product of the prior conviction that the Messiah must come, as 
the prophets had predicted, from the line of David. But Jesus himself 
publicly confuted that idea (Mark 12: 35-37), showing that he did not base 
his belief in his Messiahship on such grounds. And for us the question 
whether he was or was not descended from that idolized adventurer-king 
has no particular interest. 



76 HISTORICAL 

not read into them our twentieth-century ideas. To apply 
his teachings to our needs we shall, indeed, have, to some ex- 
tent, to translate them into our current terms and modes of 
thought; and when we have done that, we shall find them of 
perennial inspiration. To a large extent the problems of men 
then are their problems now; in its essential import the 
teaching of the great seers is never outdated. And this is 
in unusual degree the case with Jesus. For he was no social 
reformer, 1 he was a reformer of the heart; and while outward 
conditions change so rapidly as to make the political and 
social revolutionist of one era a mere historical object of 
reverence for the next, the spiritual prophet speaks to the 
common needs of men through all the ages. But, on the 
other hand, to get a correct historical view of his teaching, 
we must see him in his setting, take what he says in the 
sense in which his disciples must have understood it, and not 
try to explain away what is alien to our modern thought, or 
what time has proved untrue. 

(1) The background of Christ's teaching was the immi- 
nent approach of the Messianic era — the Kingdom of God on 
earth, and the consequent necessity for immediate repent- 
ance. Only the pure in heart, the faithful followers of Je- 
hovah, were to have part in this kingdom; the wicked were 
to be cast into "outer darkness, where there is wailing and 
gnashing of teeth. " The Judgment Day was at hand; the 
wheat was to be separated from the tares, and the new age 
of universal righteousness and peace was to be ushered in. 

The appearance of the Messiah, with his dramatic installa- 
tion of the New Order of things, so eagerly awaited by the 
people, might be at any moment; and only the righteous 
should have part in it. "Be ye ready, for in such an hour as 

1 In view of some contemporary writing about Christ it may be well to 
insist upon this point. See, for an effective elaboration of it, Biblical World t 
vol. 42, p. 26. 



JESUS THE CHRIST 77 

ye think not the Son of man cometh. Verily I say unto you, 
this generation shall not pass away till all be fulfilled." l 
Later piety, disappointed in its expectations, construed 
these promises in a metaphorical sense, to mean an inner 
coming in the hearts of men; obviously they could not long 
continue to take literally prophecies that had not been ful- 
filled. But every student is forced to admit that Christ's 
immediate predecessors and successors expected the estab- 
lishment of an outward kingdom, and meant literally what 
they said; and all the ingenuity of theologians, reading our 
ideas back into Christ's words, cannot make them fit the 
metaphorical interpretation. Nor can we consider them 
interpolations; the Gospels are too full of them. The only 
passage that gave much plausibility to the traditional inter- 
pretation, "The Kingdom of God is within you," is almost 
certainly a mistranslation. It reads properly, "The King- 
dom of God cometh not with observation [i.e., not so gradu- 
ally that you can watch it coming], but behold! the Kingdom 
of God is [all of a sudden] in the midst of you!" 2 In this 
suddenness with which it should come lay the point of the re- 
peated exhortations to be ready, to watch, to repent before 
it was too late. Certainly, if Christ put an esoteric meaning 
into his words, he utterly failed to convey his altered mean- 
ing to his disciples; and it is fundamentally inconsistent 
with the sincerity and straightforwardness of his nature that 
in such an important matter he should have used words in 
one sense which his listeners were bound to understand in 
another. We are bound, therefore, to conclude that Jesus 
shared the belief of his countrymen in an outward and vis- 

1 Matt. 24: 34, 42-44; 25: 13. Luke 12: 40; 21 : 32, 36. 

2 Luke 17: 20-21. The correct translation is given in the margin of the 
Revised Version. The Greek preposition is, by itself, ambiguous. But the 
verses following, with their emphasis upon the suddenness of the coming, 
corroborate this interpretation. And Jesus is speaking to his opponents, 
the Pharisees; the Kingdom was surely not within them. 



78 HISTORICAL 

ible change, a New Era to be established by God, there in 
Judea, in the imminent future. 1 

That Jesus should have shared this delusion, and espe- 
cially that he should have believed himself the One destined 
by God to play the role of Messiah, may seem strange to us, 
with our long perspective by which to discount the patheti- 
cally sanguine hopes of the long-suffering Jews. But after 
all, there was a deeper truth in his dream of a coming Golden 
Age and his own part in its establishment than any of his 
contemporaries could know. Though its coming be far more 
removed than he thought, the time will yet come when God's 
will shall prevail on earth; and in the bringing-on of that 
consummation he will be seen to have, in truth, played the 
master-role. And even without his conception of the King- 
dom, and his Messiahship, the essence of his teaching would 
have been the same. It was not a mere interim-morality; 
it was a description of the ideal life of the coming millennial 
era, which he urged men to adopt now, so as to be ready and 
prepare the way for that glorious consummation. Even if 
others were still living the old life of sin, this little band could 
be already living by the eternal ideals. Jesus taught this 
Way of life for the same reason that other religious leaders 
have taught similar ideals — because it approved itself to 
his heart and proved itself in his experience the way of solu- 
tion for life's perplexities and sorrows. Other motives than 
the impending Judgment-Day he often gives; 2 and there can 

1 The so-called eschatological school — Weiss, Schweitzer, Tyrrell, 
Burkitt, Streeter, et al., have done good service in emphasizing this side of 
Jesus' teaching. For corroboration of the point of view here taken, any 
of these may be consulted. See also H. L. Jackson, Eschatology of Jesus. 
E. von Dobschutz, Eschatology of the Gospels. Hibbert Journal, vol. 10, p. 83. 
M. Jones, The New Testament in the Twentieth Century, bk. I, chap. vi. 
E. F. Scott, The Kingdom and the Messiah. A. Schweitzer, The Mystery of 
the Kingdom of God. 

2 For example, "That ye may be sons of your Father who is in heaven"; 
"For no man can serve two masters . . . God and mammon"; "For where 
your treasure is, there will your heart be also." 



JESUS THE CHRIST 79 

be no doubt that his passionate earnestness and love of men 
would have expressed itself in fundamentally the same 
ideals, whatever the hopes had been that determined their 
particular form and phrasing. 

(2) The Jewish Jehovah, Lord of Hosts, was in his con- 
ception the loving Father whom one or two of the prophets 
had pictured; the Father, for his thought, not only of the na- 
tion but of each individual. The word Abba, Father, so 
often on his lips, was long repeated by his disciples. The first 
commandment was to love God; and his life was spent in the 
constant sense of companionship with him. Every event 
was ordered by his will; "not a sparrow shall fall on the 
ground without your Father." To his anxious, fearful friends 
he cries out, " O ye of little faith! " " Your heavenly Father 
knoweth that ye have need of these things." This sense of the 
love of God has been of unspeakable comfort to millions of 
believers, as it must have been to him; and by many it has 
been called the main element in his teaching. Certainly it 
was constantly in the background of his thought. 

(3) Of his practical teaching the keynote was charity, 
compassion, the beauty of boundless forgiveness and un- 
limited love. The inimitable parables of the Good Samar- 
itan and the Prodigal Son, of the Ninety and Nine, and 
the Lost Piece of Silver, 1 are the most famous of all lessons 
on the law of love. Those who were to inherit the Kingdom 
were those to whom the Messiah might say: " I was an hun- 
gered and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty and ye gave me 
drink; I was a stranger and ye took me in, naked and ye 
clothed me; I was sick and ye visited me, I was in prison and 
ye came unto me. . . . Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one 
of the least of these my brethren ye have done it unto me." 2 
The great moral commandment, according to Jesus, is to 
" love thy neighbor as thyself." Men must not allow them- 

1 Luke 10 : 30-37; 14 : 8-22. Matt. 18 : 12-14. 2 Matt. 25 : 35-40. 



80 HISTORICAL 

selves to be angry with one another; they are to interrupt 
even a sacrifice to be reconciled; they are to forgive one an- 
other not only seven times but " seventy times seven times " ; 
they are not to judge others, but — " cast out first the beam 
that is in thine own eye." "Blessed are the merciful" and 
"the peacemakers," he said, and bade men love even their 
enemies. When they made a feast they were to invite not 
their rich neighbors, who could requite their favor, but " the 
poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind . . . because they have 
not wherewith to recompense thee." His method with sin- 
ners was not that of sternness, but the awakening of the better 
nature in them; his heart went out to them and he had com- 
passion on them. " The Son of man came to save that which 
was lost," he said; and of the repentant harlot who anointed 
his feet, "Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she 
loved much." At the end, on the cross, in the agony of 
death, he uttered those immortal words: "Father, forgive 
them, they know not what they do." 

(4) Next to the love and compassion in Jesus' teaching we 
are struck by its purity, its unworldliness, and spiritual 
aspiration. "A man's life," we are told, " consisteth not in 
the abundance of things which he possesseth," but is an in- 
ward thing. All worldly pleasures and lusts that choke the 
higher life must be given up. Men must become simple- 
hearted as children; " of such is the Kingdom of Heaven," he 
said, pointing to the little ones they brought him to bless. 
The purity must be genuine and inward, not a mere observ- 
ance of the letter of the law. " Hear ye all of you and under- 
stand," he proclaimed; "there is nothing from without the 
man that going into him can defile him; but the things which 
proceed out of the man are those that defile the man." But 
this was in no spirit of laxity. On the contrary, he enjoined 
upon his disciples that their righteousness "exceed the 
righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees." They must not 



JESUS THE CHRIST 81 

only not commit murder, but not even be angry with their 
brothers ; not only refrain from adultery, but from looking at a 
woman lustfully; love not only their neighbors, but their en- 
emies. They must pluck out an eye or cut off a hand that stood 
in the way of their duty; they must seek first the Kingdom of 
Heaven, and be content with nothing less than perfection. 

These are the things that make Jesus a great spiritual 
teacher — his constant emphasis on the spirit of love and 
forgiveness, his intense aspiration for perfection and readi- 
ness to thrust aside anything that stood in the way, the di- 
rectness with which he probed to the bottom of the heart and 
demanded not only the outward form of goodness, but pur- 
ity of thought and motive. He required no allegiance to 
any creed, he enjoined no observances on his followers, he 
founded no organization; he taught a Way of life, a way 
through which millions of his followers, of many races and 
constantly varying forms of belief, have come to inward 
harmony, purity, and peace. 

O. Holtzmann, Life of Jesus. A. Neumann, Jesus. W. Bousset, 
Jesus. A. Reville, Vie de Jesus. G. H. Gilbert, Jesus. J. War- 
schauer, Jesus, Seven Questions. A. Schweitzer, Quest of the Histor- 
ical Jesus. S. J. Case, Historicity of Jesus. C. F. Kent, Life and 
Teachings of Jesus. C. G. Montefiore, Religious Teachings of Jesus. 
J. E. Carpenter, The Historical Jesus and the Theological Christ. 
B. H. Streeter, The Historic Christ, in Foundations (The Macmillan 
Company, 1913). M. Jones, The New Testament in the Twentieth 
Century, pt. i, chaps, n-iv. G. B. Foster, Finality of the Christian 
Religion, chaps, viii-ix. W. Rauschenbusch, Christianity and the 
Social Crisis, chap. n. T. R. Glover, Conflict of Religions in the 
Early Roman Empire, chap. iv. S. Reinach, Orpheus, chap, viii, 
sees. 1-41. H. C. King, Ethics of Jesus. B. W. Bacon, Christianity 
Old and New, iv. H. Sturt, Idea of a Free Church, chap. v. Weinel 
and Widgery, Jesus in the Nineteenth Century and After. Hibbert 
Journal, vol. 5, p. 136; vol. 10, p. 766. American Journal of Theology, 
vol. 18, p. 225. Biblical World, vol. 43, pp. 75, 238. 



CHAPTER VI 

PAUL AND THE FOUNDING OF THE CHURCH 

How did the Christian Church originate? 

Naturally enough, in spite of Christ's specific assurances, 
his disciples were upset at his execution and scattered, in 
alarm for their own safety. 1 Then they waited in intense 
expectation for the speedy return which he had promised. 
It seems to have been Peter, ardent and impetuous, first to 
hail Jesus as Messiah, who now first had the experience 
which to him at least was convincing proof that Jesus was 
still living and about to fulfill his promise of a glorious ad- 
vent from the heavens. Peter had lost his nerve at his Mas- 
ter's arrest, had denied that he knew him, and fled to his 
Galilean home. But Jesus had rested his hopes in him not in 
vain — " Simon, Simon, behold, Satan asked to have thee 
. . . but I made supplication for thee, that thy faith fail not ; 
and do thou, when once thou hast turned again, stablish thy 
brethren." 8 So there, amid the scenes that so poignantly 
spoke to his heart of the beloved Master, there came to him 
we know not what experience; there, at any rate, the resur- 
rection-faith, which rested originally upon Christ's promise, 
received its first corroboration. 3 

Paul, who is by many years our earliest witness, mentions, 
after the "appearance" to Peter, one "to the Twelve," 
then "to above five hundred brethren at once," then "to 

1 Cf. Mark 14: 27-28. 16:7. Matt. 26: 32; 28: 7-10. There are other 
indications. 

2 Luke 22: 31-32. 

3 Paul puts the appearance to Peter first. And there are many other 
indications. 



PAUL AND THE FOUNDING OF THE CHURCH 83 

James," then "to all the apostles," "and last of all he ap- 
peared to me also." x Of none of these other " appearances " 
have we any description; of his own experience, which he in- 
cludes with the others as of the same nature, these are his only 
further words — "It was the good pleasure of God to reveal 
his Son in me, that I might preach him among the Gentiles "; 
and " Have I not seen Jesus our Lord? " 2 But the three descrip^ 
tions of Paul's experience in Luke, though they may date 
from as much as sixty years after the event, and are, indeed, 
in several particulars flatly contradictory to one another, 
are no doubt correct in their general picture of the scene. 3 
It is quite possible that all or some of the other experiences 
may have been described in the original ending of Mark's 
Gospel, long since lost. But we can now be certain of little 
beyond the fact that a few of the faithful were assured that 
Jesus had been " revealed in them," and that the conviction 
rapidly spread; so that, as Tacitus says, the propaganda, 
temporarily repressed, burst forth again. 4 

1 The word &(pdr) ("appeared") was never used of one man in the body 
meeting another. Jesus never "appeared" to any one before his death. 
The word was used for visions of super-earthly Beings. Angels "appeared" 
in dreams, etc. 

2 1 Cor. 15: 5-8. Gal. 1 : 11-17. 1 Cor. 9: 1. 

3 Acts 9 : 1-9; 22: 5-13; 26 : 12-20. Luke is a rather unreliable historian, 
as we see by comparing so many of his accounts with Paul's briefer, but of 
course vastly more reliable, — because first-hand, — statements. 

The scene in Acts, chap. 2, though it is certainly in many respects unhis- 
torical (e.g., Luke quite misconceives the phenomenon of "speaking with 
tongues," whose real nature we can clearly apprehend in Paul's letters. And 
the setting of the scene in Jerusalem, in line with his view as to the seat of 
the earliest church, in contradiction to the convergence of evidence that the 
early propaganda was in Galilee, throws suspicion upon the whole story), may 
be an echo of Paul's "appearance" "to above five hundred brethren at 
once." Such collective visions, ecstasies, or inspirations, are not uncom- 
mon in religious history. 

4 Repressaque in prcesens exitiabilis superstitio rursum erumpebat. (An- 
nals, xv, 44.) 

The stories at the end of our Gospels are so late in origin, so confused and 
mutually contradictory, so out of line with Paul's allusions and with all 



84 HISTORICAL 

The new faith, communicated from the little band of ec- 
static believers in Galilee, spread here and there throughout 
Judea, and into the surrounding regions where scattered com- 
munities of Jews were awaiting the good news of the Mes- 
siah's coming. It was in Antioch, we are told, that they were 
first called Christians. In the tenth chapter of " Matthew " 
we have, apparently, a picture of that early itinerant preach- 
ing. The missionaries went not to the Gentiles, but "to 
the lost sheep of the house of Israel." They took no gold 
or silver in their purses, but trusted to charity for their sup- 
port, while they spread the glorious tidings that the Messiah 
had actually appeared, in the person of Jesus, had suffered 
and died, but had burst the bonds of Sheol and was soon to 
come on the clouds of heaven to establish the Kingdom. 
When they were persecuted for their blasphemy in one city, 
they fled to the next, relying on the Master's promise that 
they should not have gone through the cities of Israel before 
he would come. 1 Peter was the head of the band; 2 and his 

inherent plausibility, that they must be pretty completely discounted. 
Paul shows no knowledge of an empty tomb; Christ's resurrection, in his 
thought, is an emergence of his spirit "from the region of the dead" (£k 
vtKpQv) — a spiritual resurrection such as he expected for all the faithful, 
not a reanimation of the body and rising from the grave. Indeed, the whole 
discussion in 1 Cor. 15 is aimed against those who understood the Resur- 
rection to mean a raising of the dead body — the belief, in embryo, which 
the Gospel stories represent. Moreover, it is noteworthy that Paul asserts 
that the Twelve were at one with him in his ideas on these matters (1 Cor. 
15 : 11) . Jesus himself had never predicted the emergence of his body from the 
grave. We must be on guard, in reading the words of Jesus and Paul, against 
reading back into them the later ideas embodied in the Gospel endings. 

The completest and most scholarly discussion of these matters in any 
language, to date, is C. R. Bowen's Resurrection in the New Testament. See 
further, K. Lake, The Historical Evidence for the Resurrection of Jesus 
Christ. A. Reville, in New World, vol. 3, p. 498. Monist, vol. 11, pp. 1, 
361. American Journal of Theology, vol. 13, p. 169. American Journal of 
Religious Psychology, vol. 1, p. 30. 

1 Matt. 10 : 5-23. 

2 It is noteworthy that Paul, after his conversion, went to consult Peter — 
and did not deem it necessary to see any others of the Twelve. (Gal. 1 : 18-19.) 



PAUL AND THE FOUNDING OF THE CHURCH 85 

preaching may be fairly well recorded in the passage: "Ye 
men of Israel, hear these words: Jesus of Nazareth, a man 
approved of God unto you by mighty works and wonders and 
signs . . . this Jesus did God raise up, whereof we all are 
witnesses. Being therefore by the right hand of God exalted, 
and having received of the Father the promise of the holy 
spirit, he hath poured forth this that ye see and hear. . . . 
Repent ye, and be baptized in the name of Jesus, the Christ, 
unto the remission of your sins ; and ye shall receive the gift 
of the holy spirit." l Eagerly they went from house to 
house, "preaching the Kingdom of God, and teaching con- 
cerning the Lord Jesus, the Christ." 2 

What are the salient facts of Paul's life and personality? 

An insignificant Jewish sect the Christians would have 
remained, dwindling gradually from vanishing hopes, had 
not a second religious genius arisen at just the right moment 
to transform the new faith from a variation of Judaism into 
a universal religion. Christ had freed the Jewish religion 
from its incubus of legalism, making it thus potentially uni- 
versal — as one or two of the prophets had done before him; 
he had even intimated that outsiders might be admitted to 
the Kingdom. But the time had been short; his preaching, 
and that of his disciples, was to the Jews alone. 'The Graeco- 
Roman world had scarcely heard of this obscure Messianic 
propaganda until Paul took it up, colored it with his marked 
individuality, and spread it north and west. At his death a 
chain of Christian communities extended across the Empire 
from Jerusalem to Rome. 3 

1 Acts 2 : 22 : 38. 2 Acts 28 : 31. 

3 Paul was, indeed, only one of many laborers. We think of him as the 
man who did the work primarily because some of his letters chanced to be 
preserved, and because the author of Acts emphasizes his part. But he 
was, no doubt, the most brilliant and important of the missionaries to the 
Gentiles. 



86 HISTORICAL 

Approximately of an age with Jesus, Paul was a man of 
very different stamp. Born " a Pharisee, a son of Pharisees," 
in the Greek city of Tarsus, he unites in his mental outlook 
the two conflicting currents of Hebraism and Hellenism. 
"I advanced in the Jews' religion," he tells us, 1 "beyond 
many of mine own age among my countrymen, being more 
exceedingly zealous for the traditions of my fathers." But 
he thought in Greek, and had some conversance with Greek 
philosophy. Brought up in a profligate city of mixed popu- 
lation, his view of the natural life of men is pessimistic and 
tinged with the world-weariness of contemporary Roman 
society — in striking contrast to the village atmosphere and 
wholesome buoyancy of Jesus' early preaching. Impetuous, 
headlong, self-reliant, obstinate, fearless, wrestling with 
strong passions, and acknowledging his own infirmities, 2 he 
lacks the Master's divine sweetness and poise. His extant 
letters are noticeably dissimilar in style from the recorded 
sayings of Jesus; they reflect the subtleties of his theological 
training, and lack the Great Teacher's simplicity and natu- 
ralness. Yet, in spite of his darker temperament, his broader 
training, his more complex and confused outlook upon life, 
Paul came to be possessed by the same serene and gentle 
spirit, which he humbly confessed to be not of his own origi- 
nation, but the spirit of Christ living again in him. 3 

The crisis in his career came at the age of about thirty- 
five, a few years after the death of Jesus. He had come to 
Jerusalem too late to see him in the flesh, and learned of him 
at first only through the prejudiced reports of his Pharisaic 
brethren. The little band of disciples in the capital added to 
their blasphemy, in giving the sacred Messianic title to an 
unknown provincial peasant, the insult of glorying in his 
ignominious and accursed death by crucifixion, and the in- 
fidelity of laxity in obeying the traditions of Jewish ortho- 

1 Gal. 1 : 14. 2 Cf. Rom. 7 : 7-25. 3 Cf ., e.g., Gal. 2 : 20. 



PAUL AND THE FOUNDING OF THE CHURCH 87 

doxy. Joining ardently in their persecution, Paul's better 
nature must have been deeply affected by witnessing their 
heroism and faith — as his physical being shuddered at the 
sight of Stephen's blood and agonizing death. He presum- 
ably investigated the new cult more or less, and must have 
been impressed by the nobility of Jesus' sayings, as by the 
radiant assurance of the believers — an assurance and peace 
and self-mastery which he, in his long struggle with himself 
under the Law, had never attained. So that, while he con- 
tinued obstinately in his persecution, it was " kicking against 
the pricks." In this unstrung and inwardly divided condi- 
tion, fresh from participation in the martyrdom of Stephen, 
in the heat and glare and fatigue of midday journeying, just 
outside of Damascus, he had the vision which determined 
his whole future life. God then and there, as he always be- 
lieved, "revealed his Son in him," giving him thereby the 
summons to believe on Jesus and to take up the missionary 
work, which he in fact took up with zeal and prosecuted 
through all dangers and tribulations till it brought him, in 
his turn, to a martyr's death. 1 

1 The important question whether Paul's experience (uncertain in its 
exact nature, but undoubted in its general purport) is explicable in physical 
and psychological terms — that is, came as the natural result of the influ- 
ences playing upon his peculiar and rather pathological temperament, ac- 
cording to ascertainable laws — cannot be settled by the historian. It 
involves the whole question of the supernatural, and must be left, together 
with the question of the origin of the resurrection-faith, and the questions 
concerning the many visions and miracles recorded in the Bible and else- 
where, to solution, if at all, by the general considerations to be discussed in 
chapter xvm. If we believe at all in the continued life of Christ, it is not 
difficult to conceive of some means, whether telepathic or more ordinary, or 
perhaps some channel not yet known to us, whereby he may have touched 
and kindled the mind of Paul — and the minds of many disciples before and 
since. On the other hand, psychology has done so much in recent years to 
bring within the domain of the natural the realm of visions and voices, and 
the like, that we cannot say that all of these experiences, so indubitably 
objective to those who have them, may not be ultimately shown to be 
purely subjective. Paul, as we know from his own pen, was subject to 



88 HISTORICAL 

The essence of Paul's conversion was his conviction that 
Jesus was, indeed, the awaited Messiah. Back to Jerusalem 
he eventually went, to confer with the heads of the Chris- 
tian community and learn what he could of Jesus. 1 He sel- 
dom referred, however, — we judge from his letters, — to 
Christ's words or to the events of his earthly life, save to the 
Last Supper and the Crucifixion, which came to have for him 
a symbolic meaning. Frankly, he found little material in 
the humble earthly career of the Master for his propaganda; 
what he did was rather to keep his eyes fixed upon the con- 
ception of the Messiah which had been formed in him by his 
Jewish training, with the simple but all-important change 
that this Messiah had appeared for a brief preliminary so- 
journ upon earth, had returned to heaven, and was about to 
descend again for the great Day of Judgment. Paul always 
regarded his own gospel as directly inspired by the risen 
Christ, and felt no need of limiting himself to a repetition 
of the preaching of the earthly Jesus or of the Twelve. He 
was, no doubt, far better educated than they, and highly in- 
dividual in his ideas. He carved out his own path, and stuck 
to it until he had moulded the future of the nascent religion 
along the lines of his own profound and daring genius. 

For fifteen years or so he preached in the villages of Syria 
and Cilicia, to the Jewish residents mostly, but also to such 
Gentiles as had come somewhat under the influence of Jew- 
ish thought and would listen. Of the latter he did not re- 
quire obedience to the intricate requirements of the Law — 
an obedience which they would doubtless never have given. 

visions and trances; and his experience must certainly be judged side by side 
with the many thousands of similar experiences of Christian and non- 
Christian saints. 

For discussion of Paul's conversion, see B. W. Bacon's Story of St. Paul, 
ad loc, and American Journal of Religious Psychology, vol. 1, p. 143. 

1 Not till after three years, however, and then but for a fortnight, con- 
ferring with two apostles only. So he vigorously asserts in Gal. 1 : 15-18. 



PAUL AND THE FOUNDING OF THE CHURCH 89 

This laxity aroused a protest from the stricter Jewish Chris- 
tians, which resulted in Paul's finally being summoned to 
Jerusalem to explain. But he had had time to accomplish 
results; the same gifts of the Spirit which attested the truth 
of the preaching of the Twelve had appeared among his 
converts. The apostles were impressed, and granted him 
official permission to convert the Gentiles without requiring 
obedience to the Law. Later, in Antioch, a sharp difference 
of opinion arose on a related point, and Paul broke with 
Peter and the other pillar-apostles — a breach which 
weighed heavily on his spirit, so that he ever after looked 
wistfully forward to its healing, while, at the same time, he 
refused to back down or compromise. 1 Paul alone had heard 
the call of the great world outside of Jewry — the call sym- 
bolized in. the " Come over and help us " of the Man of Mace- 
donia of his dream; in his vision Christianity was already a 
bigger thing than Judaism had ever been or could become. 
And he well knew that the intolerable and needless burden 
of the Law must be definitely laid aside if the faith was to 
capture the hearts of the wider circle of needy men and 
women toward whom he yearned. 

He turned his face westward then; and the next half- 
dozen years of his life were spent in incessant preaching 
tours, through Asia Minor and the Balkan Peninsula, with 
his headquarters for long at Corinth and Ephesus. Finally 
he determined to penetrate to Rome itself, where others had 
already started a church, and on beyond to Spain. But first 
he would take to the apostles at Jerusalem, as a peace-offer- 
ing, a great contribution of alms for the poor there from his 

1 The question at Jerusalem had been, May Gentiles become Christians 
without obeying the Jewish law? The decision had been, Yes. The ques- 
tion at Antioch was, Are these Gentile Christians "clean," so that Jewish 
Christians may eat and associate with them? Paul said, Yes; James said, 
No. Peter first sided with Paul, but was won over, together with Barnabas, 
by James. 



90 HISTORICAL 

infant churches. He made his way to Jerusalem; and what 
the reception of his offering was we are not informed. But 
we learn that he was set upon by the Jews, in whose eyes he 
was an arch-traitor, was tried by the local Roman official, 
appealed to Caesar, and was sent to the Rome of his dreams 
as a prisoner. There he had relative freedom for a year 
or two to preach, — though under constant guard, — but 
finally came to trial, and, according to tradition, was exe- 
cuted, at the age of sixty or a little over, — leaving behind 
him a group of churches growing yearly in numbers, and 
eight or ten hasty but precious letters, which have carried 
the fire of his eager and indomitable spirit down through the 
Church of nineteen centuries. 

What was the gist of Paul's teaching? 

There is much in Paul's letters, we must confess, which is 
obscure, and not a little that is grotesque, alien to our mod- 
ern thought, and even repellent. Most or all of this is due to 
the survival in his thoughts of pre-Christian conceptions; 
the ingenious rabbinical arguments of contemporary Jewish 
theology, blending with the expression of his own first-hand 
and glowing Christian experience, have caused endless trou- 
ble to the devout ever since. 1 His love of theorizing, never 
systematic, but always positive and dogmatic, is largely 
responsible for the creedal yoke which the Church has so 
long borne. Christ's teaching had been almost exclusively 
practical; Christian theology has rested rather upon Paul's 
very hasty and occasional utterances. Paul was not really a 

1 Cf. the quibbling in Gal. 3 : 16; the argument is as absurd in the original 
as in English. And the superstitious survivals in 1 Cor. H : 7, 10. (To under- 
stand the latter verse, see Gen. 6 : 1-4.) Far-fetched and absurd exegesis 
of the Scriptures, in true rabbinical style, is common: cf. Gal. 4: 21-31. 
2 Cor. 3 : 12-15. 1 Cor. 9: 8-11; 10: 1-11. Rom. 9:22-25. His belief in the 
preexistence of the Messiah, and his vivid portrayal of the coming Judg- 
ment Day, are contemporary Jewish elements; etc., etc. 



PAUL AND THE FOUNDING OF THE CHURCH 91 

great thinker; his merit lies rather in his eloquent and per- 
sonal expression of the new spirit, the redeemed and spiritual 
life, which had replaced in him the restless and vacillating 
life of his youth, and in the practical work which he accom- 
plished. His theorizing is highly polemical and pragmatic, 
determined and developed by the exigencies of the contro- 
versies into which he was forced, 1 and by no means self- 
consistent or central in his teaching. Yet, by one of the 
ironies of history, these concepts, and this very language, 
have determined in a remarkable degree the whole course 
of modern theology. 

It is easy enough, however, to separate the gold from the 
dross; and it is gold of fine quality. We will summarize the 
most significant notes in Paul's teaching: — 

(1) The core of it was the profound doctrine of Salvation 
by Faith. In his own experience he had learned the futility 
of the Law, its powerlessness to quicken the inner springs of 
conduct; all his youth he had battled in vain with his pas- 
sionate nature in the attempt to keep true to its innumerable 
prescriptions. But in the ardor of his new faith he found him- 
self able to rise above his sins; the communion with Christ, 
which was so real to him, filled him with a new spirit, made 
him over from a carnal to a spiritual man, so that, overcom- 
ing evil with good, as he phrased it, he no longer cared for 
the fleshly things that had once held him down. This saving 
faith was not an assent of the intellect, it was an allegiance 
of the heart, a full and happy loyalty, that made the endless 
injunctions of Jewish casuistry seem needless and petty. 
Moreover, the Master himself had cared little for these out- 
ward rules and conformities and had preached a gospel of 

1 His insistence on faith, e.g., was a necessary counter to the zeal of the 
Jewish Christians for the Law. The exalted Christology of Colossians and 
Ephesians (which many students think, however, to be not genuinely 
Pauline) was a counter to the Gnostic depreciation of Christ's position. 



92 HISTORICAL 

freedom. And the Gentiles to whom Paul preached would 
never accept the yoke of the Law; the simpler way was that 
to which all the practical needs of his mission drew him. So 
it is natural that he should have felt a rush of scorn for all 
that older religious machinery, and bidden his converts 
" stand fast in the freedom wherewith Christ hath set us free, 
and not be entangled again in the yoke of bondage." As he 
had found the power of a better life born in him at his con- 
version, had felt himself saved, cleansed from his burden of 
sin, and endowed with a new spirit, so — there being nothing 
peculiarly Jewish in the experience — they might hope, by 
opening their hearts to Christ's spirit and letting it domi- 
nate them, to rise into the redeemed life and become heirs 
of the promises. 1 

(2) This was no invitation to laxity. On the contrary, it 
involved a complete renunciation of the unregenerate life; 
when Christ lived in the believer he would no longer care for 
the lusts of the flesh. To Paul, Christ's death had a deep 
symbolic meaning; the preaching of the Cross was, practi- 
cally, an invitation to die to the old life and rise with Christ 
to the new. Instead of the Hellenic ideals of culture and 
moderation, which had proved ineffective against the temp- 
tations to cruelty and lust, Paul demanded an absolute turn- 
about. "Be not fashioned according to this world," he 
wrote, "but be ye transformed by the renewing of your 
mind . . . always bearing about in the body the dying of 
Jesus, that the life also of Jesus may be manifested in our 
body." "Put to death, therefore, your earthly impulses — 
fornication, uncleanness, passion, evil desire, and covetous- 
ness . . . anger, wrath, malice, railing, shameful speaking 
out of your mouth; lie not to one another; seeing that ye have 
put off the old man with his doings and have put on the new 

1 For further discussion • of salvation by faith, see below, pp. 172- 
73; 180-86. 



PAUL AND THE FOUNDING OF THE CHURCH 93 

man." "Abhor that which is evil, cleave to that which is 
good." l 

(3) But with all this stern and high summons to men 
there is mingled the caritas, the tender, ministering love, 
which he owned as Christ's work in him and so memorably 
eulogized in the poetic phrases of 1 Cor. 13. He is usually 
very patient with his weak and troublesome flock, admonish- 
ing them gently, and picturing for them the beauty of the life 
of mutual helpfulness and affection. " Bear ye one another's 
burdens," he wrote, "and so fulfill the law of Christ." "In 
love of the brethren be tenderly affectioned one to another 
. . . bless them that persecute you, bless and curse not. . . . 
Render to no man evil for evil . . . but if thine enemy hun- 
ger, feed him; if he thirst, give him to drink." "Let no man 
seek his own, but each his neighbor's good." "For the whole 
law is fulfilled in one word, even in this : Thou shalt love thy 
neighbor as thyself." "Put on, therefore, as God's elect, 
holy and beloved, a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, 
meekness, long-suffering; forbearing one another, and for- 
giving each other, if any man have a complaint against any; 
even as the Lord forgave you, so also do ye. And above all 
these things put on love, which is the bond of perfectness." 
"For even as we have many members in one body, and all 
the members have not the same office; so we, who are 
many, are one body in Christ and severally members one of 
another." 2 

(4) The regeneration and peace of the believers were but 
the pledge and foretaste of the glorious life in the Messianic 
era about to open. This present world was soon "coming to 
nought," the new age at hand, wherein "each shall receive 
his reward according to his own labor." "The time is short, 

1 Rom. 12: 2. 2 Cor. 4: 10. Col. 3: 5-10. Rom. 12: 9. 

2 Gal. 6:2. Rom. 12: 10-20. 1 Cor. 10:24. Gal. 5: 14. Col. 3:12-14. 
Rom. 12:4-5. 



94 HISTORICAL 

brethren; meanwhile, let those that have wives live as 
though they had none ; those that weep as though they wept 
not; those that rejoice as though they rejoiced not; those that 
buy as though they possessed not; and those that use the 
good things of the world, let them use them sparingly; for 
this manner of world soon passeth away." "Now we see as 
in a mirror, darkly; but then, face to face." "We shall not 
all die, but we shall all be transformed, in a moment, in the 
twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet-call; for the trum- 
pet will sound, and the dead will rise incorruptible, and we 
shall be transformed." " We that are left alive unto the com- 
ing of the Lord shall by no means precede those that have 
died. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven, with 
a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trum- 
pet of God; and those that have died in the faith shall first 
rise; then we who are still alive shall together with them be 
caught up into the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air; and 
so shall we forevermore be with the Lord." " But concerning 
the exact time, brethren, you have no need that aught be 
written you. For you know perfectly that the day of the 
Lord is to come like a thief in the night. When they are say- 
ing, Peace and safety, then sudden destruction is to come 
upon them, as travail upon a woman with child; and they 
shall in no wise escape. But ye, brethren, are not in dark- 
ness, that that day should overtake you like a thief; ... so 
then ... let us watch and be sober." And later in his min- 
istry, "Salvation is now nearer us than when we first be- 
lieved. The night is far spent and the day is at hand." l 

This pathetic hope of a supernaturally transformed 
earthly life, derived from contemporary Jewish anticipa- 
tions, and shared, evidently, by Jesus himself, was destined, 

1 1 Cor. 2: 6; 3: 8; 7:29-31; 13: 12; 15: 51-52. 1 Thess. 4: 15 to 5: 8. 
Rom. 13: 11-12. 



PAUL AND THE FOUNDING OF THE CHURCH 95 

in the nature of things, soon to pass away — or rather to be 
transformed into the hope of future life in an unseen heav- 
enly realm. But the eagerness and consolation of this prim- 
itive Christian hope can hardly be imagined by us, in our 
soberer world. Naive and illusory as it was, it gave an im- 
mense stimulus to that life of faith, that new dedication of 
the soul, that crucifixion of the fleshly life and happy es- 
pousal of the Christ-life, which made Paul's little churches 
the source of so much that is best in our modern life. 

H. Weinel, St. Paul, the Man and His Work. W. Wrede, Paul. 
A. Schweitzer, Paul and His Interpreters. J. Moffatt, Paul and 
Paulinism. C. Clemen, Paulus. B. W. Bacon, Story of St. Paul; 
Founding of the Church. A. Sabatier, Apostle Paul. P. Gardner, 
Religious Experience of St. Paul. A. Deissmann, St. Paul. E. R. 
Wood, Life and Ministry of Paul. C. C. Everett, Gospel of Paul. 
M. Arnold, St. Paul and Protestantism. J. R. Cohn, St. Paul in the 
Light of Modern Research. K. Lake, Earlier Epistles of St. Paul. 
C. von Weizsacker, Apostolic Age, vol. i, p. 79/. R. Scott, Pauline 
Epistles. S. Reinach, Orpheus, chap, vm, sees. 42-69. Hibbert 
Journal, vol. 10, p. 45. American Journal of Theology, vol. 14, 
p. 361. New World, vol. 8, p. Ill; vol. 9, p. 49. Constructive Quar- 
terly, vol. 1, p. 163. Biblical World, vol. 44, p. 375. 



* % 



CHAPTER VH 

EARLY CHRISTIANITY 

What were the causes of the triumph of Christianity? 

The times were ripe for the new faith. The old pagan reli- 
gions had waned and were taken lightly or openly disbelieved. 
The Roman Empire was corrupt to the core; the virtue and 
austerity that made Rome what it was had given way to 
extremes of bestiality and lust. A loss of hope in human 
effort, a despair of the natural sources of happiness, a revul- 
sion from the wantonness of the age, led to a lapse of patriot- 
ism and a hunger for individual salvation, for some super- 
natural personal assurance and guidance. The best men 
found a modicum of happiness in fleeing from the world and 
living a life of Stoic self -containment. Just as among the 
Hindus, centuries before, the need was for a religion of de- 
liverance. Any number of salvation-cults were introduced; 
none was so simple, so full of hope, so beautiful in the pure 
and brotherly life of its adherents, as this Christianity that 
Paul and his followers taught. It caught men's imaginations 
and spread with marvellous rapidity. 

(1) The sweetness of consolation that it offered needs 
no comment. The great loving Father-God had sent his 
Anointed One to earth to announce his plan for men; a glori- 
ous future awaited them if they would but believe and trust 
in him; this Divine Man had suffered, just as they had to 
suffer; all was intended and right and paved the way to a 
great consummation. A new value was at once added to life; 
its accidents became unimportant in the light of the future. 
Christ, the Good Shepherd, came closer to the heart than the 



EARLY CHRISTIANITY 97 

Jewish Jehovah, and far closer than the cold and impersonal 
God of Greek philosophy, — offering a more intimate per- 
sonal relationship and a more assured hope in the beyond. 

(2) Linked with this great hope, and its witness, was the 
New Life, which was itself a redemption from the vanity and 
sin of the existing order. Instead of self-assertion and pride 
of power, which were virtues to the ancients, the new teach- 
ing enjoined patience, humility, purity, simplicity of heart 
— a spirit almost new to the pagan world. The primitive 
church was an intimate brotherhood, caring for the poor and 
the weak in its membership, and including women in its 
regard, — as the cult of Mithras, which bade fair to be its 
most dangerous rival, did not. 1 

(3) Christianity also had an advantage in its attachment 
to a definite historic person. Mithras, and the other gods 
that competed for popular favor, were mythical beings 
whose reality it was possible for the sophisticated to doubt; 
Christ had but lately been seen on earth, as any one could 
prove. And all the historic background of the Old Testa- 
ment, which Christianity took over, helped to give it an 
atmosphere of actuality lacking to the other Oriental cults. 
" It had its roots in a national faith, moulded by the trials 
and passions of a singularly religious people; that connection 
with Judaism gave Christianity a foothold in history . . . 
which it was a true instinct in the Church never to abandon." 2 

1 For illustrations of the spirit of primitive Christianity cf. Lucian (De 
Morte Peregrini, 13): Christians "spare no expense" in assisting one an- 
other, "for their first legislator had persuaded them to believe that they 
were all brethren of one another." And Aristides (Apology, 15): "The 
Christians . . . honor father and mother and show kindness to their neigh- 
bors. ... If they hear that one of them is imprisoned or oppressed on ac- 
count of the name of their Messiah, all of them care for his necessity; and 
if it is possible to redeem him, they set him free. And if any one among 
them is poor and needy, and they have no spare food, they fast two or three 
days in order to supply him with the needed food." 

See E. A. Edghill, The Spirit of Power, passim. Scott, chap. vi. 

2 G. Santayana, Poetry and Religion, p. 82. 



98 HISTORICAL 

(4) Finally, in the energy and skill of her propaganda the 
Christian Church outstripped her rivals. She, almost alone, 
developed a close and effective organization; she alone of the 
real religions developed an elaborate philosophy and fed the 
intellects as well as the hearts of her converts. The old 
pagan religions had not been proselyters; men grew up in 
them as a matter of course, and seldom sought to convert 
those whose allegiance naturally belonged elsewhere. Be- 
fore the vigorous missionary zeal of the Christians they 
made the resistance only of passive distrust or physical per- 
secution. So, in an age of intellectual ferment, the acute 
polemic of the Church fathers, and their ingenious theolo- 
gies, were effective; while in an age of heart-hunger, their 
earnest and well organized missionary campaigns made 
startlingly rapid headway. 

It is small wonder, then, if, with the great hope they pos- 
sessed, and the self-forgetting brotherliness of their life, 
which was its own reward, these Christians went about with 
radiant faces and rejoicing hearts, drawing gradually to their 
fold those that labored and were heavy laden, seeking for the 
rest that Christ had promised to those who followed him. 
"The consciousness of new loves, new duties, fresh consola- 
tions, and luminous unutterable hopes accompanied them 
wherever they went. They stopped willingly in the midst of 
their business for recollection, like men in love. . . . Nothing 
in this world remained without reference to the other, nor 
was anything done save for a supernatural end." 1 

Under what influences did the Church evolve her creeds? 

It was, of course, not without many struggles, internal and 
external, that Christianity in its eventual form became dom- 
inant. The Jewish Christians bitterly opposed the admission 
1 G. Santayana, Poetry and Religion, pp. 86-87. 



EARLY CHRISTIANITY 99 

of Gentiles to their church, and Paul and his followers 
worked between the fires of Jewish-Christian opposition and 
pagan skepticism. The Gentiles soon so outnumbered the 
Jews in the new church that the former difficulty settled 
itself; in 70 a.d., by the destruction of Jerusalem, the Jew- 
ish nation practically ceased to exist, and the intransigent 
Jewish-Christians came to be considered heretics, under the 
disparaging name of Nazarenes. 

The resistance of paganism was, of course, much more ob- 
stinate; and the struggle lasted for centuries. Intermittently 
persecuted by the State, but flourishing all the more through 
the faith and blood of its martyrs, the new cult grew so stead- 
ily that by the fourth century its adoption as the state reli- 
gion of the fast disintegrating Roman empire became politi- 
cally expedient. Constantine's conversion was doubtless 
more an act of statesmanship than of religious conviction. 
The old Roman religion could no longer command general 
allegiance; amid the multitude of sects there was only this 
one that gave promise of becoming a genuinely uniting force. 
Christianity could not be repressed, the various forms of 
paganism might be; herein lay a new possibility for the uni- 
fication of the Empire. 1 A little later the pure and noble 
Emperor Julian made a last desperate attempt to stem the 
rising tide of Christianity and put the dying religion of his 
fathers on its feet again. But his few months' reign — spent 
chiefly in the incessant wars of the times — made little im- 
pression; and after this final protest the dominance of Chris- 
tianity was never really in question. 

The pagan opposition to Christianity had not been, how- 
ever, so sharp as might be supposed. The new religion assimi- 
lated, as it spread, many of the former beliefs and practices 

1 In a letter to Alexander, Bishop of Alexandria, he states that his mo- 
tive was to establish throughout the Empire "some one definite and com- 
plete form of religious worship." 



100 HISTORICAL 

of the people; and its gradually forming doctrines assumed 
shapes not unfamiliar in many of their aspects. The concep- 
tion, for example, of an incarnated God, dying and rising 
again, whose body and blood were tasted by the devout be- 
lievers, resembled closely various prevalent and popular 
beliefs. During the centuries wherein Christian belief was 
still fluid and developing simultaneously in many different 
directions, those variations that were most in line with the 
antecedent beliefs of the people naturally attracted their 
sympathy and tended to win the day. Moreover, Jesus was 
a Jew; the Greek- and Latin-speaking peoples might trans- 
late and repeat his words, but to them they inevitably had 
different meanings and lent themselves to another set of 
ideas. Habits of thought and religious practices are not 
easily transformed; and if the pagan world was Christian- 
ized, so also was Christianity paganized. It may be doubted, 
indeed, whether "orthodox" Christianity is not more Greek 
than Hebraic in spirit and form; certainly on its theoretical 
side it reflects the conceptions of the Grseco-Roman world 
that accepted, and in accepting moulded after its own ways 
of thinking, the still Jewish beliefs of the apostles. 1 

1 Grant Showerman (American Journal of Philology, vol. 29, p. 156) calls 
primitive Christianity an "agency for the ingathering of universal religious 
experience, and modern Christianity the heir to the riches of all the ages." 

Cf. J. T. Shotwell (The Religious Revolution of Today, p. 45): "We must 
not forget that Christianity was not all Christian; that it never has been so. 
It is, and was from the first, drawn from all antiquity, and preserves for us 
things that were sacred untold ages before there was a temple at Jerusalem. 
It was a new consecration of consecrated things. However revolutionary it 
seemed, it kept as much of the old regime as could be applied in the new." 

And Grant Allen (Evolution of the Idea of God, pp. 227, 389): "At the 
moment when the Empire was cosmopolitanizing the world, Christianity 
began to cosmopolitanize religion, by taking into itself whatever was cen- 
tral, common, and universal in the worship of the peoples among whom it 
originated. . . . Christianity triumphed because it united in itself all the 
most vital elements of all the religions then current in the world, with little 
that was local, national, or distasteful." 

See also G. Friedlander, Hellenism and Christianity. H. A. A. Kennedy, 



EARLY CHRISTIANITY 101 

This process of absorption and universalization could not, 
to be sure, go on too rapidly without evoking violent revivals 
of the purer Christian spirit. Montanism — the name given 
to a conservative reaction breaking out in the middle of the 
second century — fought the growing Hellenic tendencies 
in the Church and sought to turn it back to its more primi- 
tive and Jewish forms, particularly cultivating the "gifts of 
the spirit" and the naive belief in the imminent return of 
Christ to earth. And if it failed to check the inevitable 
drift, on the other hand the Hellenization of Christianity 
failed to eliminate all the naive and legendary elements of 
the religion and mould it into a completely rationalized 
system. The prevailing tendency was that which retained 
much of the Hebraic background and spirit — a via media 
between the opposing forces. 1 

The fluidity and individualism of early Christianity re- 
ceived its first decisive check at the Council of Nicsea, which 
drew up, in 325 a.d., under the domination of the just-con- 
verted Emperor Constantine, the first authoritative Chris- 

St. Paul and the Mystery Religions. S. J. Case, Evolution of Early Christian- 
ity, chap. ix. M. Jones, The New Testament in the Twentieth Century, bk. I, 
chap. vii. H. Delahaye, Legends of the Saints, chap. vi. Monist, vol. 12, 
p. 416/. 

1 The Gnostic movement, termed by Harnack the "over-acute Hellen- 
ization of Christianity," should perhaps be mentioned here. But recent 
scholarship holds that Gnosticism was not primarily an attempt to recon- 
cile Christianity with Greek thought. It was rather a pre-Christian mys- 
tery-religion, deriving partly from Greek and partly from Oriental sources, 
which incorporated into its system the historical Saviour Jesus, reverenced 
Paul, and became a quasi-Christian sect, while retaining anti-Christian 
ideas, such as a decided dualism. The Gnostics for the most part rejected 
the Old Testament and the Jewish element in Christianity. They believed 
in post-apostolic revelation to a succession of prophets, whence their su- 
perior insight, revelation, knowledge (yvwo-is). They first (probably) im- 
ported the sacramental idea into Christian circles; and through the op- 
position which they aroused they provoked the Church into a firmer 
organization and unification of creed. The best known Gnostics were 
Marcion and Valentinus, who flourished in the second century. See Bousset 
in Encyclopaedia Britannica (11th ed.), Gnosticism. 



102 1 HISTORICAL 

tian creed. Up to the promulgation of this Nicene creed 
each church had had its own baptismal formulas; and such 
creeds as had been formulated were neither long nor of gen- 
eral acceptance. Constantine was probably not deeply reli- 
gious by temperament, but he was a good administrator; 
having decided to make Christianity the state religion, he 
wished its doctrine more exactly determined. 1 And there 
seemed an immediate necessity for some exercise of author- 
ity, in view of the violent disputes current on all sorts of 
major and minor points of doctrine. It was only after long 
and bitter controversy that the decision swung as it did. 
And although later creeds show considerable change of con- 
viction, it is difficult to overestimate the effect upon the sub- 
sequent course of Christian thought of the conceptions which 
through the prestige of this imperial church council were 
now imposed upon the Church. 2 

The Athanasian Creed, so called, is considerably later 
than the Nicene, dating probably from the sixth century. 
These, and the other creeds, bear the stamp of the particu- 
lar controversies which were then raging. In an age when 
the centrifugal forces within the Church were great, and the 
attacks upon it from without multitudinous and acute, it 
was a perhaps justifiable instinct of self-preservation that 
led it to this hard and fast definition of its position. But 
the result was an arrested development, the formation of a 

1 Responsible as he partly was for this petrification of theology and im- 
position of a creedal yoke, he nevertheless gave some sound advice to the 
disputatious bishops. In the letter already quoted he writes, " My advice is, 
neither to ask nor answer questions which, instead of being scriptural, are 
the mere sport of idleness or an exercise of ability ; at best keep them to 
yourselves and do not publish them. You agree in fundamentals." 

2 The so-called Apostles' Creed was considerably earlier in formulation, 
but does not occur in its present form before 750 a.d., and was never an 
official creed, like the Nicene and later creeds. Its earliest forms date, per- 
haps, from about 150 a.d. But the tradition ascribing its origin to the 
apostles is quite late and without foundation. Cf . Harnack in Nineteenth 
Century, vol. 34, p. 158; and the encyclopaedias. 



EARLY CHRISTIANITY 103 

crust of dogma, representing the conceptions of that intel- 
lectually keen and subtle but egregiously unscientific age, 
which has nearly choked the modern church and is still 
costing heavy effort to burst. 

Two historic movements, then, united in Christianity. On 
the one hand, the deep religious fervor of the Jews, freed by 
Christ from what was local and unessential, and translated 
by Paul into terms intelligible to the outer world; on the 
other, the great intellectual movement of Greece, the meta- 
physical conceptions that had been developing from Plato 
and Aristotle into Neo-Platonism and Stoicism. The He- 
braic element brought undeniably much that persisted and 
leavened society. Yet when men trained in contemporary 
philosophy sought to grasp and explain the mysteries of the 
new faith, — which the Church insisted should be accepted 
first and understood, if possible, afterwards, — they wan- 
dered far from the original gospel. The transition from the 
then current Greek speculation to Christian theology — as 
from pagan to Catholic ritual — was hardly as violent as the 
change from the faith and teaching of Christ to the body of 
doctrine that grew up about his name. 

For one thing, the symbolism so common in the Jewish 
writings was a stumbling-block to the pagan mind; and 
many a metaphor and trope was taken literally and crystal- 
lized into doctrine : as, for example, when the words of Christ 
to his disciples calling the wine and bread, by a natural and 
pathetic figure, his blood and body, became hardened into 
the extraordinary dogma of transubstantiation. 1 In such 
manner did the Aryan speculative temper make strange 
work of the Hebraic parables and intuitions! All sorts of in- 
genious subterfuges sought to reconcile the resultant incon- 
sistencies, and many conflicting theologies competed with 
one another for dominance. Council after council debated 

1 For the probable meaning of Christ's words, see Scott, chap. vni. 



104 HISTORICAL 

the points at issue, the majority vote ruled, and all other doc- 
trines than those accepted were dubbed heresy. So grew up 
the body of Christian theology, widely different, in its ulti- 
mate form, from the Christianity of Paul, and still further, 
of course, from the religion of Jesus. 

Yet the Christianization of the Grseco-Roman world 
wrought a great change. Speculative tendencies continued 
with little change of direction, popular conceptions and ob- 
servances were absorbed; but underneath all this the spirit- 
ual earnestness and purity and love of Jesus and his follow- 
ers were finding their way into the world. A new ideal of life 
was set before the mind, far vistas of sympathy and mercy 
and self -surrender replaced the pagan ideal of self-assertion; 
and through all the mutations of theology the Christian 
life still glowed in the hearts of men and beckoned them 
onward. 

What was the origin of the conceptions of 

I. The Atonement ? 

Among the conceptions slowly crystallized by the im- 
pingement of Greek thought upon the primitive Christian 
experiences and hopes was that of the Atonement. That a 
new and redeemed life was possible to men through a mystic 
union with Christ had been the fundamental note of Paul's 
teaching. As Adam had plunged the whole human race into 
sin, so Christ had rescued them; he was the Second Adam, 
the Saviour of men. Thus could Jewish Messianism be inter- 
preted in terms not dissimilar to those of the Greek mys- 
teries. As with Attis, Adonis, and Osiris, this Saviour-God 
had suffered, died, and risen again; and his worshipers were 
to repeat in their lives, in inward experience, this death and 
resurrection. The study of these contemporary cults shows 
the Pauline conception to have been one of several analogous 



EARLY CHRISTIANITY 105 

salvation-schemes. 1 With Paul it was an experience rather 
than a theory; that he had actually entered upon the New 
Life through the giving of his allegiance to Christ, he knew. 
Moreover, that Christ, having died, yet lived, and had re- 
vealed himself to Paul on that eventful day, was unquestion- 
able to him. That his death had somehow been for men's 
sins was not only a deduction from certain verses of Scrip- 
ture, but was the almost necessary explanation of such a 
strange and otherwise incomprehensible event. Death was 
the penalty of sin ; but since Christ had been sinless, his suf- 
fering must have been vicarious, like that of the "Suffering 
Servant of Jehovah" prefigured in Isaiah 53 — a passage 
which Christ had no doubt applied to himself. 2 Somehow 
Christ had conquered sin and death, for himself and for all 
who clave to him. But in Paul the conception remained 
fluid, rhetorical, growing. The way stood open for bitter 
controversy over the question what the convert must do. 
Was it enough to believe, was salvation "by faith alone," did 
the mystical union with Christ suffice, in a magical sort of 
way? Or was continuance in "good works" essential to sal- 
vation? 3 And the way stood open for endless theorizing 
over the question how faith in Christ could redeem men. The 

1 Loisy calls them, including the Christian conception, reves apparenUs 
(Hibbert Journal, vol. 10, p. 45). 

2 Cf. Mark 10: 45 : "For verily the Son of man came ... to give his life 
a ransom for many." The Greek word (Xtirpov) may perhaps be trans- 
lated 'liberation' — i.e., 'as a means of freeing many from sin and its pen- 
alty, death.' How his death could effect this liberation Christ does not tell 
us. 

Cf. also, as typical of early Christian preaching, Titus 2:14, "Jesus 
Christ gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity." 
And Acts 3 : 18, " But the things which God foreshewed by the mouth of all 
the prophets, that his Christ should suffer, he thus fulfilled." Cf . also Acts 
17 : 3 ; 26 : 23. Luke 24 : 26. 1 Cor. 6 : 20. 1 Pet. 1 : 18-21. Col. 2 : 12-15. 
Heb. 2:14-15. 

3 For the leading expressions of this controversy within the limits of the 
New Testament, see Gal. chaps. 3-5. Rom. 3 : 19 to 8 : 4. Jas. 2 : 14-26. 
See below, pp. 180-86. 



106 HISTORICAL 

answers to this latter question constitute the various doc- 
trines of the Atonement. 1 

II. The Trinity? 

The prevalent Greek conception of God was that of an 
Absolute Reason, remote from men, ineffable, unknowable. 
Nor did the teaching concerning the war-god of the Old 
Testament, with his Jewish affiliations, and his role as Judge 
of men, in great degree break down that sense of aloofness. 
But Christ — that beloved personage, that Redeemer of 
men, who had suffered and died for them — appealed deeply 
to their hearts. Christ had been the great fact to Paul and 
the first Christians, union by faith with him their primary 
religious experience. The conception of him as Jewish Mes- 
siah was, indeed, unintelligible and uninteresting to the 
Greeks and Latins. But even to the believing Jews he had 
been a heaven-sent, more or less supernatural Being. A 
mass of legend and miracle had grown up around him; he 
had become a figure not unlike many with which the Greeks 
were familiar, gods who had walked the earth and shared 
human experiences. And so nothing could have been more 
natural and inevitable than the popular deification of Christ. 
Even Paul had spoken of the spirit of God, and the spirit of 
Christ, or again, simply the Spirit, indistinguishably. His 
mind was too practical to care for consistency or to spin out 
a satisfactory theory of it all. But the result of his preaching 
was that Christ assumed a far more exalted position to the 
Gentile world than he could have had to the Jews. Pliny's 
"carmen Christo quasi deo dicere" indicates the popular 
worship of Christ; and in the early creeds propositions about 
him far out-bulk those about God. 

It would have been consonant with the polytheistic 

1 To be discussed below, pp. 174-78. See A. Sabatier, Doctrine of the 
Atonement and its Historical Evolution. 



EARLY CHRISTIANITY 107 

habits of thought of the Western peoples to have left Christ 
simply as another God by the side of Jehovah. But this was 
deeply repugnant to the ingrained monotheism of the Jews. 
And as the Jewish Scriptures had been taken over by the 
new religion, it became necessary to reconcile their emphatic 
monotheism with the deification of Christ. Fortunately 
there was a conception familiar to the contemporary Greek 
mind of just the sort to solve this paradox — namely, the 
Logos conception. Philo, a Jewish philosopher of Alexandria, 
contemporary with Christ, had already used it in expounding 
to the Greek world a Hellenized Judaism, which he had 
hoped to make the absolute religion of the future. He had 
taken up the term Logos, which meant to the Neo-Platon- 
ists the Word, or Emanation, or Creative Activity, of God — 
a sort of separate entity which bridged the chasm between 
God and man; he had applied this conception to Jehovah, 
and had been materially aided by the fact that the Greek 
translators of the Old Testament had made frequent use of 
this same term, Logos, in the phrases which we translate 
"word" of God. Even in the Old Testament this "word" 
or "wisdom" or "creative activity" of God had seemed at 
times half-personified, as if a separate Being. 

From Philo or some other of the many writers who were 
using the term Logos the mystical author of the Fourth 
Gospel derived the word and most of its significance; his 
contribution was that he identified Christ with this Logos of 
God, and made it therefore clearly personal and incarnate. 1 
This identification became generally accepted, although con- 
troversy long raged as to the exact relation between Christ 
and the Father. Thus the dominant tendency of Greek 
thought triumphed, and the popular worship of Christ was 
satisfied. From the conception of a man divinely anointed 
by God for the carrying out of his purpose for his chosen peo- 

1 See John 1 : 1-14. 



108 HISTORICAL 

pie, to that of a supernatural Being sent by God to save men, 
thence to that of an Emanation of God himself, and finally 
to a flat identification with God as one of the "persons" of 
the One Godhead was a development that occupied several 
centuries. But in the end the instincts and concepts of the 
Western peoples triumphed over the Jewish monotheism — 
which must have seemed cold and bare to them at best ; and 
Christ, like Buddha, and many another religious founder be- 
fore him, became very God. 1 

The Neo-Platonic conception thus partially adopted was, 
in some of its forms, trinitarian; 2 and it may be a significant 
fact that it was by Greek-trained thinkers that the dogma 
of the Trinity was elaborated. The Spirit of God had been 
half -personified in the Old Testament; but it was now dis- 
possessed of the right to be thought of as the Logos of God 
by Christians. This Holy Spirit, however, had been of strik- 
ing importance in early Christianity — the " manifestations 
of the Spirit " being the undeniable proofs of redemption. 3 It 
was obviously detachable, so to speak, from God, could 
"descend upon men" and enter their hearts. According to 
the Fourth Gospel, Christ had promised his disciples to send 
this Spirit to live in their hearts when he should no longer be 
with them. Gradually this Holy Spirit became more and 
more a separate Being, until by the Christian thinkers of the 
second and third centuries it was made into the Third Per- 
son of a new and Christian Trinity. The deep and perma- 
nent truth enshrined in this dogma we shall speak of in chap- 
ter ix ; but in the literal form which it assumed, e.g., in the 
Nicene creed, we must recognize an embodiment of con- 
temporary Greek speculation of a sort very alien to our 

1 Cf . A. Reville, History of the Doctrine of the Deity of Jesus Christ. 

2 Cf. Plotinus' Trinity, to tv, vovs, and ^pvxv- 

3 See Scott, chap, m, and cf. 1 Cor. 12: 3, "No man can say, Jesus is 
Lord, but in the (or a) holy spirit." We read later ideas into these earliest 
sayings when we capitalize the words Holy and Spirit. 



EARLY CHRISTIANITY 109 

modern thought and irreconcilable with our maturer out- 
look. 1 

Christianity, indeed, went still further in its concessions 
to the polytheistic temper of the people. The saints, and 
especially the mother of Christ, were also worshiped. In 
431 a.d. the Council of Ephesus decreed that the latter be 
received and honored — as a sort of supplement to the 
Trinity — under the title of the Mother of God. 

III. Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory? 

The beliefs of the Hebrews as to what lay beyond the 
grave were, like those of most ancient peoples, vague, fluc- 
tuating, and insecure. 2 The future life, if there was to be 
one at all, was to be rather dreaded than desired. It was not 
at all from these forebodings, but from the very different 
and far more eager anticipation of an earthly Messianic 
kingdom, that the Christian hope was developed. Jesus and 
Paul and the earliest Christians had expected the coming of 
the Messianic Kingdom within a few years. 3 As time went 
on, however, and Jesus did not appear, in his Messianic 
role, to establish it, skepticism naturally grew. Two tend- 
encies then developed. 4 In the first place, the Judgment Day 
and inauguration of the Kingdom were put farther and 

1 God, Christ, and the Holy Spirit which had, according to promise, been 
poured out upon the Church and was the proof of its divine character, were 
the three important entities in early Christian belief; their conjunction in 
baptismal formulae, and elsewhere, long antedated the conception of them 
as three Persons of a Triune God. 

See J. Lebreton, Origines du Dogme de la Trinite; L. L. Paine, Critical 
History of the Evolution of Trinitarianism. Kriiger, Dogma von der Dreieinig- 
keit und Gottmenschheit (Tubingen, 1905). A. Harnack, Constitution and 
Law of the Church, Appendix n. 

2 See below, pp. 383-85. 

3 Cf. above, pp. 60-62; 66-69; 75-79; 93-94. And Matt. 23: 39; 25: 13. 
Mark 8: 38; 9: 1; 13: 30-33; 14: 25,62. Luke 22: 15-18. 1 Cor. 15: 51-52. 
Rom. 13: 11-12. 1 Thess. 4: 1. Heb. 9: 28. Jas. 5: 1. 

4 On all this, see S. Mathews, The Messianic Hope in the New Testament. 



110 HISTORICAL 

farther away; * and all those sayings that described this im- 
pending event as an obviously outward and earthly affair 2 
were referred to that remoter future. On the other hand, the 
sayings that promised a speedy return had to be taken meta- 
phorically, as meaning a coming in spirit in the hearts of the 
believers — an interpretation consonant, perhaps, with the 
early post-crucifixion experiences of the disciples. 3 Further, 
the Kingdom of God — or Kingdom of Heaven, as it was 
sometimes called (owing to a reticence in speaking the Di- 
vine name) — which to the Jews had always meant a heav- 
enly kingdom on earth, in Judaea, was interpreted by the 
Greeks, naturally out of sympathy with such local hopes, to 
mean a kingdom in the heavens. The vague "outer dark- 
ness" into which the wicked were to be cast crystallized 
gradually into a definite region of future torment, usually 
conceived, in harmony with widespread ancient notions of 
future existence, as a vast pit under the earth. 4 

Thus arose the Christian doctrine of Heaven and Hell. 
The Day of Judgment at the end of the existing order — 
that nightmare of the Middle Ages — was gradually put far- 
ther and farther into the future; though at several epochs a 
feverish anticipation of its imminent approach became wide- 
spread. At that great dies iroe the dead were to rise from the 
grave and assemble at the throne of God, where the sheep 
would be separated from the goats, the former to be rewarded 
with eternal happiness, the latter punished with eternal tor- 
ment. The Devil, introduced into late Judaism, probably 
from Persia, 5 apparently believed in but little emphasized 

1 Cf. 2 Thess. 2: 1-12. Rev., chap. 20; 21 : 1-5. 

2 Such as Mark, chap. 13. Matt. 25 : 31-45. Luke 17 : 26-36. John 5 : 28- 
29; 6:40. 1 Pet. 4:17-18. 

3 Cf. especially John 14: 16-29; 15: 26-27; 16: 7-14. 

4 Cf., in the Apostles' Creed: "He descended into Hell." 

5 See C. C. Everett, in Essays Theological and Literary. Also in New 
World, vol. 4, p. 1. Harvard Theological Review, vol. 5, p. 371. P. Carus, 
History of the Devil. 



EARLY CHRISTIANITY 111 

by Jesus, assumed importance in this scheme; though his 
relation to the God, who, although omnipotent, tolerated 
him, was a matter for much controversy. When the alterna- 
tive between everlasting bliss or torment seemed too sharp, 
the doctrine of Purgatory, long familiar in the Orphic 
mysteries, crept in to soften it; but, not having a proper 
basis in Scripture, it was rejected by Protestantism. 1 

In such ways the various dogmas of the growing Church 
came into being. Council after council, in stormy debate, 
worked out what was to be for centuries the orthodox Chris- 
tian belief. Much ingenuity and many acute disputations 
went to the forming of this body of doctrine, the mental 
energy and ability of the times finding in this way its outlet. 
In the subtle and elaborate work of Thomas Aquinas the 
system reached its completes t form. The authority of the 
Church enforced its acceptance and thus fossilized it, ensur- 
ing it against healthy criticism or further development. In 
Dante's Divine Comedy, wherein deep religious feeling and 
the highest poetic genius vivified and illumined this gigantic 
framework of dogma, we have the greatest and most lasting 
product of Catholic theology. Opposing doctrines were vig- 
orously stamped out; and this strange composite of popular 
faith and learned dialectic imposed itself with a grip of iron 
upon the mind of the Western world. 

E. F. Scott, Beginnings of the Church. C. von Weizsacker, 
Apostolic Age. A. C. McGiffert, History of Christianity in the 
Apostolic Age; Rise of Modern Religious Ideas. P. Wernle, Begin- 
nings of Christianity. H. Harnack, What is Christianity? pt. n; 
Mission and Expansion of Christianity; History of Christian 
Dogma. G. Hodges, The Early Church, from Ignatius to Augustine. 
O. Pfleiderer, Primitive Christianity. H. Achelis, Christentum in den 
ersten drei Jahrhunderten. J. C. Ayer, Source Book for Ancient 
Church History. J. A. Faulkner, Crises in the Early Church. E. Du- 

1 The Scripture verses with which the doctrine supports itself are 2 Mace. 
12 : 43-^6. Matt. 12 : 32. Luke 12 : 48. 1 Cor. 3 : 15; 15 : 29. 



112 HISTORICAL 

chesne, Early History of the Christian Church. S. J. Case, Evo- 
lution of Early Christianity. E. Hatch, Influence of Greek Ideas and 
Usages upon the Christian Church. C. Clemen, Christianity and its 
Non-Jewish Sources. T. R. Glover, Conflict of Religions in the Early 
Roman Empire, chaps, v-x. A. Sabatier, Outlines of the Philosophy 
of Religion, bk. n, chap. in. L. Abbott, Evolution of Christianity, 
chaps, v-vi. Foundations, chap. iv. G. Reinach, Orpheus, chaps. 
ix-x. F. Paulsen, System of Ethics, bk. i, chaps, ii-iv. H. B. 
Mitchell, Talks on Religion, chap. vi. G. Santayana, Reason in 
Religion, chaps, vi-ix. H. B. Workman, Christian Thought to the 
Reformation. American Journal of Theology, vol. 17, p. 63. 



CHAPTER VIII 

LATER CHRISTIANITY; MOHAMMEDANISM 

By what process did the Roman Church become dominant ? 

Jesus founded no church and had no thought of one; 1 
he merely called on his people to repent and be ready for the 
approaching world-change. And the earliest Palestinian 
Christians simply gathered informally to listen to the happy 
story, renew their faith in their Messiah, and strengthen one 
another in well-doing, It was rather with Paul's little groups 
of converts in Asia Minor and Greece, as time wore on, that 
church organization developed. At first they were very 
democratic, vesting whatever disciplinary and executive 
powers were necessary in their elders; 2 even into the sec- 
ond century, in Polycarp's time, their organization had 
proceeded scarcely farther. But for mutual helpfulness it 
became advisable to elect overseers — episcopoi, bishops; 
these were at first simply the most prominent elders. Grad- 
ually these bishops assumed greater and greater authority, 
until the government of the churches was rather monarchical 
than democratic. St. Jerome, indeed, warns the bishops 3 
to "remember that if they are set over the presbyters, it is 
the result of tradition, and not a particular institution of the 

1 Matt. 16 : 18 and 18 : 17 employ the word iKKXr/ala. But the word must 
not be understood in our modern sense — if indeed the sayings are genuine 
at all. (See Holtzmann, Life of Jesus, pp. 319 n. 326-27). There was no 
time or motive for organizing a "church." On this whole matter see Scott, v 
Beginnings of the Church, chap. n. 

2 The Greek word for elder, "presbyter," is the source of our word 
"priest." The Latin equivalent is "senior." 

3 Ad Titum, 1 : 7. 



114 HISTORICAL 

Lord." But by the fourth century they had taken over the 
functions — and even the titles, sacerdos, pontifex, etc. — 
of their predecessors, the pagan priests; and so, step by step, 
the pagan sacerdotal idea replaced the simpler conception of 
primitive Christianity. 

Amid these bishops it was natural that the Bishop of 
Rome should have the greatest prestige. Rome was the cap- 
ital of the Empire, and — especially now that Jerusalem 
had fallen — the natural center for the Church's life. More- 
over, in the struggle against unbelievers and heretics it be- 
came necessary to have some central authority. Church 
councils were too clumsy a method of solving this problem; 
the leadership of the Roman bishops offered a promise of 
unity. Thus the Papacy was practically a fait accorrfpli be- 
fore it occurred to its apologists to justify it by the theory 
of divine right through Petrine succession. 1 That theory, as 
it was formulated toward the close of the second century, 
derived the powers of the Roman bishop, by an unbroken 
succession, from the apostle Peter, who was said to have 
ended his days in Rome, and upon whom Jesus was said to 
have conferred authority over the Church. 2 There was 

1 Just so the theory of the divine right of kings, which has lingered to our 
day, is a justification to the intellect, after the fact, of an antecedent status 
which it was desired to support. 

2 As a matter of fact, the earlier links in this chain are entirely untrust- 
worthy. Peter may possibly have gone to Rome — though there is no evi- 
dence of it. But if he did, the fact has no significance. To any one who 
grasps the historic setting and real spirit of Jesus' anticipations, it is clear 
that nothing was farther from his mind than the transmitting of sacerdotal 
power to an institution. Peter was simply the man whom he trusted to 
keep his little band loyal until his Messianic coming. And then, there was 
in all probability no bishop at all in the little Roman church till long after 
Peter's death. The Catholic interpretation of Matt. 16 : 18-19 does not 
appear until the third century. That text — which does not appear at all 
in the earliest narrative — may even be not from Jesus' lips at all. See 
Holtzmann, Life of Jesus, pp. 326-30. And cf. E. F. Scott, Beginnings of 
the Church, p. 51 : " It is not too much to say that nowhere in the Gospels do 
we have stronger evidence of interpolation than in this memorable passage.' - ' 



LATER CHRISTIANITY; MOHAMMEDANISM 115 

strenuous opposition from the other bishops and their 
churches to this assumption of authority by Rome. But the 
early Roman bishops were good politicians; and out of the 
general chaos they emerged triumphant. Thus, by an easily 
intelligible process, a powerful centralized Church, modeled 
in organization after the Roman Empire, and succeeding 
to its authority and prestige, grew up out of the democratic 
fraternities of primitive disciples. 

During the same period a ritual and liturgy were evolved, 
and the Church more and more assumed control over the 
lives of men. The weaker the Empire grew, the stronger 
grew the power of priesthood and papacy. The division of 
the Empire led, indeed, to a like growth in authority of the 
Bishop of Constantinople; and a schism between East and 
West developed which was never healed. But though the 
Eastern Church remained, and remains to this day, separate 
from the Roman Church, the latter waxed steadily in au- 
thority in the West. In 386 Ambrose refused to obey the 
Emperor Valentinian; and a few years later another emperor, 
Theodosius, humbled himself and performed penance at the 
dictation of that bishop of the Church. In 800, Leo III 
placed the crown on the head of the Emperor of the Franks; 
and at the beginning of the thirteenth century Innocent III 
dominated Europe. Finally, in the nineteenth century, the 
dogma of the infallibility of the Pope was decreed — a des- 
perate attempt to stem the rising tide of secularism which 
has shorn from the Papacy its political power and a large 
part of its hold on the minds of men. 

What was the significance of the Reformation? 

During the Middle Ages the decree of Pope and Council 
was accepted by all the Western peoples that had adopted 
Christianity. Not, indeed, without recurrent chafing and 
protest; there were many "reformers before the Reforma- 



116 HISTORICAL 

tion." But the masses were illiterate and ignorant, inter- 
communication of thought was not easy, and the various 
early attempts at rebellion proved abortive. So, although 
the way was prepared by Wyclif in England, Huss in Bo- 
hemia, and other independent and deeply religious spirits, 
the actual break with Rome did not occur until Luther's 
defiance of Papal authority in 1517. Luther, who was a 
priest, and a professor in the University of Wittenberg, did 
not foresee at first an actual secession from the Church; but 
circumstances drove him on. Excommunicated in 1520, he 
publicly burned the Papal decree. Others flocked to his 
standard; in 1529 a number of German princes and repre- 
sentatives of the cities signed the famous Protest which gave 
the name to the new movement. Political considerations 
entered in; especially the new sense of nationality among the 
Northern peoples welcomed the opportunity to get rid of the 
Roman yoke. In Switzerland, Denmark, Sweden, and the 
British Isles the challenge to Papal authority was particu- 
larly welcome. After protracted discussion and struggle, 
issuing in actual warfare in central Europe, the Northern 
nations became predominantly Protestant, while in the 
Mediterranean countries the old regime retained its hold. 
The Reformation was really a revolution; and its name 
might better be applied to the so-called Counter-Reforma- 
tion by which the Roman Church purged itself, under the 
stress of criticism and revolt, of its more flagrant abuses. 
The most palpable of these, and the immediate occasion of 
Luther's protest, was the shocking and cynical sale of indul- 
gences, whereby those who had money were granted forgive- 
ness of sins and eternal life. But this was only one embodi- 
ment of the corruption and wire-pulling in the Church of 
the times, corruption that was so snugly intrenched in high 
places as to need drastic measures. The protest of the reform- 
ers was directed, however, not only against the worldliness 



LATER CHRISTIANITY; MOHAMMEDANISM 117 

and politics in the Church, but against the paganized form of 
the Gospel which had become the official doctrine — the wor- 
ship of the Madonna, of saints and relics, the dogma of trans- 
substantiation and the sacrifice of the Mass, the belief in 
Purgatory and the practice of prayers for the dead, the insti- 
tution of Confession — such accretions of doctrine, which 
seemed to the reformers rather heathen than Christian. 
There was also an element of protest against the unwhole- 
some asceticism favored by the Church and flourishing side 
by side with its worldliness — the monastic system, the celi- 
bate clergy, the fastings and penances whereby special 
merit with God was to be won. 

Some of the practices thus criticized were presently re- 
formed within the ancient Church. But the Protestant re- 
volt was too fundamental to be checked by such concessions. 
With the revival of Greek culture and learning, the renais- 
sance of the study of nature, and the awakening of the spirit 
of free inquiry, the control of a self-styled authoritative 
church over the minds of men was doomed. These humaniz- 
ing and enlightening influences had been instinctively antag- 
onized by the Church and long repressed. But the new ideas 
spread from the universities, and the authority of established 
beliefs could not remain unchallenged. The revolt from 
Rome did not imply an immediate and far-reaching change 
of beliefs; but it did mean a freedom from the choking eccle- 
siastical tyranny which was rendering freedom of thought 
and further growth impossible. It meant that henceforth the 
people were to have a hand in the government and creedal 
decisions of the Church. And it meant a setting aside of the 
sacerdotal system, with all its external machinery of salva- 
tion. Religion again, as in the hands of Christ and of Paul, 
became a first-hand and inward matter; salvation was not 
through sacraments and priestly absolution, but through 
the immediate relation of the individual to Christ and God. 



118 HISTORICAL 

Thus the independent and virile Northern races broke away 
from the domination of a stifling ecclesiastical system which 
had become, as time went on, in greater and greater degree 
alien to their temper. 

The underlying and unexpressed ideal of the Reformation 
was that beliefs and practices must not be imposed upon 
men's minds by an external authority, but must grow out of 
experience and be tested by reason. But it is only gradually 
that Protestantism has come to full self -consciousness. The 
craving for outward and visible authority to lean upon long 
persisted; and a great deal of the Catholic absolutist spirit 
survived in the new churches. Moreover, in the struggle 
against Rome the need of some weapon was felt; the weapon 
at hand was the Bible. Thus the reformers escaped from 
slavery to a church only to fall into slavery to Scripture- 
texts. And many Protestants, advancing beyond their con- 
temporaries in liberal thought, were persecuted not only by 
Catholics, but by their own more conservative brethren. 
The history of Protestantism is a record of intolerance and 
bigotry which goes far to dim its actual achievement in set- 
ting men on the path of progress. 

Yet that it did set men on the path of progress is undeni- 
able. Although when it broke with ecclesiastical authority 
it took refuge in the authority of Scripture, making that the 
basis and oracle of its faith, there was this momentous gain: 
instead of having to go to the priests to learn the truth, every 
one could henceforth find it for himself in God's written 
word. But the Bible, being a heterogeneous collection of 
writings expressing the points of view of many writers of 
widely separated times and beliefs, easily supplies a text for 
almost any doctrine — especially if its words are wrenched 
from their context and interpreted in the violent and arbi- 
trary manner common to theologians. Thus Protestantism, 
while still, like its parent-faith, claiming the support of an 



LATER CHRISTIANITY; MOHAMMEDANISM 119 

infallible authority, lent itself to growth and change; a 
rapid divergence of belief resulted. 1 

What have been the subsequent tendencies of Chris- 
tianity? 

(1) At first, revolting from the loose and degenerate prac- 
tices of contemporary Catholicism, Protestantism assumed 
a form of grim austerity; in Calvinism we have the severest 
form of Christianity. Calvin, with uncompromising logic, 
drew from the harshest verses of the Bible a clean-cut and 
relentless system, which bred a race of stern morality, but 
nearly banished all the natural joys of life. In England the 
new national church — established largely through political 
reasons — was, except for its independence of Rome, but a 
slightly expurgated Catholicism; and the Puritans — those 
who stood out for a pure church — looked upon it as a case 
of arrested development. They would have no images or 
candles or luxurious vestments, no mummery of ritual or 
liturgy, nothing luring to the senses or smacking of worldli- 
ness. Of priests and bishops they would have none; face to 
face with God and His word they lived, a stern, uncompro- 
mising and splendidly devoted band. New England was first 
settled, and made what it was to be, by them. Such men as 
Cotton Mather and Jonathan Edwards were fit to rank, in 
the power and purity of their lives and the depth of their re- 
ligious feeling, with the great Hebrew prophets. And yet, 
Puritanism, with its firm belief in predestination and eternal 
punishment, was a religion to make one shudder. Such ser- 
mons as Edwards's Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God 
depict a deity beside whom the Devil himself pales into a 

1 For the Reformation, see, in addition to the books mentioned at the 
close of the chapter, T. M. Lindsay, History of the Reformation. C. Beard, 
The Reformation in its Relation to Modern Thought and Knowledge. R. M. 
Jones, Spiritual Reformers in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century. 



120 HISTORICAL 

mildly malevolent being. An arbitrary and cruel tyrant, 
damning the majority of his helpless creatures, and saving a 
remnant, not for their own merits, but to manifest his own 
power, or "glory," deserves at the least Channing's phrase 
— "a very injurious view of the Supreme Being." l 

(2) And in fact this hideous doctrine became, as the times 
grew happier and more generally moral, too awful for men's 
increasingly humane instincts. The whole Calvinistic-Puri- 
tanic scheme, with its grim stress on the eternal gulf between 
sinners and saved, and its black picture of the natural state 
of man, however suited to the dark times of St. Augustine 
and Calvin, was not plausible in the easier and on the whole 
much purer conditions of modern life; and it has gradually 
come to seem nothing less than preposterous to all but the 
most tenaciously conservative of the descendants of those 
who, but a generation or two ago, firmly believed it. The 
conception of God prevalent at any time reflects the temper 
and ideals of the believers; and the modern mind, more sen- 
sitive to suffering than that of earlier ages, will tolerate no 
such tyrannical and brutal deity. 2 

Thus there has been in recent times, and particularly in 

1 He had already written (in 1809), "A man of plain sense, whose spirit 
has not been broken to this creed by education or terror, will think it is not 
necessary for us to travel to heathen countries to learn how mournfully the 
human mind may misrepresent the Deity." 

2 Cf. W. James, Varieties of Religious Experience, p. 329: "Few his- 
toric changes are more curious than these mutations of theological opinion. 
The monarchical type of sovereignty was, for example, so ineradically 
planted in the mind of our own forefathers that a dose of cruelty and ar- 
bitrariness in their deity seems positively to have been required by their 
imagination. They called the cruelty 'retributive justice,' and a God with- 
out it would certainly have struck them as not 'sovereign' enough. But to- 
day we abhor the very notion of eternal suffering inflicted; and that arbi- 
trary dealing-out of salvation and damnation to selected individuals, of 
which Jonathan Edwards could persuade himself that he had not only a 
conviction, but a ' delightful conviction ' as of a doctrine ' exceedingly pleas- 
ant, bright and sweet,' appears to us, if sovereignly anything, sovereignly 
irrational and mean." 



LATER CHRISTIANITY; MOHAMMEDANISM 121 

America, a great revival of belief in the love of God, leading 
in many quarters to a conviction of universal salvation. 
Channing declared that the orthodox "have too often felt 
as if God were raised by his greatness and sovereignty above 
the principles of morality, above those eternal laws of equity 
and rectitude, to which all other beings are subjected. . . . 
We believe that God is infinitely good, kind, and benevolent, 
in the proper sense of these words ; good not to a few, but to 
all; good to every individual." Theodore Parker wrote, 
God's " plan must be adapted to secure the ultimate welfare 
of each creature he has made." This gentler and happier 
view has permeated in greater or less degree all the Protest- 
ant churches, and bids fair to become the dominant Chris- 
tian conception. 1 

(3) This great reversal of belief, together with many other 
changes of conception which we have not space to enumer- 
ate, involved the abandonment of tenets that seemed se- 
curely based upon the Bible, and naturally shook its author- 
ity. More and more, reason came to be upheld in its place as 
the ultimate criterion of truth. St. Augustine had said, 
" This is my faith because it is the Catholic faith." The early 
Protestants had said, "This is our faith because the Bible 
says so." But many were saying by the eighteenth century, 
with Toland, " We hold that reason is the only foundation of 
all certitude," and with Bishop Butler, "Reason is, indeed, 

1 C. C. Everett, late professor of theology at Harvard University, 
writing of this revolution of belief, said, " It was as if black and heavy clouds 
had rolled away, and the blue heavens stretched above them, and the clear 
sunshine gladdened their hearts. God was no longer the stern judge, de- 
manding the death of the innocent before he could forgive the guilty — 
if that can be called forgiveness which has been purchased at such a price. 
Christ was no longer the substituted victim of the Father's wrath. Man was 
no longer under the curse of God. These men saw only the love of God re- 
flected in the face of Jesus. Man was the child of God, still followed and 
ever to be followed by the Father's love." 

Cf. Barrett Wendell, Literary History of America, bk. v, chap. iv. 



122 HISTORICAL 

the only faculty which we have to judge concerning anything, 
even revelation itself. . . . The faculty of reason is the can- 
dle of the Lord within us, against vilifying which we must be 
very cautious." In 1819 Channing, a Christian minister, 
could write, "If religion be the shipwreck of understanding, 
we cannot keep too far from it " ; and a little later, "We must 
never forget that our rational nature is the greatest gift of 
God. ... If I could not be a Christian without ceasing to be 
rational, I should not hesitate as to my choice ... I am 
surer that my rational nature is from God than that any 
book is the expression of his will." 

In pursuance of this spirit, modern Liberal Christianity 
studies the Bible more and more as it would study any other 
book, sees the Hebrew god Jehovah for what he really was to 
the minds of those early Semites, and recognizes him as be- 
ing to them very much what the contemporary gods of 
Greece or Babylon were to their worshipers. Its God must 
be less barbarous, local, and anthropomorphic, revealed 
rather in the eternal moral law than in special miracles or 
Jewish codes. He is no longer thought of as favoring a spe- 
cial people or having the scope of his purposes limited by the 
history of Judaism and Christianity. The whole world- 
process is his plan ; we are to read his will not so much in the 
sermons of Isaiah or the letters of Paul as in the conscience 
with which we are all endowed and the universal spiritual 
experience of man. 

(4) The ultimate goal of Protestantism seems to be the 
complete rationalization of its beliefs, the acceptance by re- 
ligion of science as the arbiter of truth, and the formulation 
of her insights and ideals in terms that science can accept. 
The promise of this eventual outcome lies in that individual 
liberty of belief whose germs were contained in the Reforma- 
tion. There is even, in the movement known as Modernism, 
a push within the Catholic Church toward this goal. But 



LATER CHRISTIANITY; MOHAMMEDANISM 123 

while such endeavors are strictly repressed by the Roman 
See, Protestantism, rejoicing in its comparative freedom, 
presents the spectacle of a chaos of experiments in reconcilia- 
tion of the old and the new. On the one hand there are reac- 
tionary eddies toward traditional beliefs; on the other, all 
sorts of new and grotesquely irrational cults, tangential to 
the main line of development. Spiritualism, with its supposi- 
titious evidence of a future life, offers comfort to the credu- 
lous. Recently we have witnessed the extraordinary career 
of John Alexander Dowie, " Elijah II, The Restorer, General 
Overseer of the Christian Catholic Church in Zion," who 
made himself a multi-millionaire through the gullibility of 
his followers. Christian Science, so-called, has attracted 
many thousands by its radical optimism, its promise of 
physical health, and its frank abandonment of most of the 
older dogmas. All these phenomena are so many phases of 
that great doctrinal upheaval that is gradually changing 
the basis of authority in religion from ecclesiastical pro- 
nouncement and written word to reason and experience. 

Meanwhile, as doctrines confront one another and crum- 
ble, more and more emphasis is laid upon the necessity and 
transcendent worth of the Christian Life. Churches of 
widely different beliefs are learning to cooperate for human 
uplift and to emphasize what they have in common rather 
than their creedal differences. In general, the thought of 
Christendom less and less concerns itself with another world, 
but sets itself the task of bettering this world. The Institu- 
tional Church, the Y.M.C.A., and kindred organizations, 
draw attention to the need of social regeneration. Some 
churches have arisen which discard the traditional beliefs in 
toto, and make their basis of fellowship solely the endeavor 
after the spiritual life, the life of purity and service. Thus, 
through all doctrinal changes, and although the intellectual 
formulation of the religion is profoundly changing, the Chris- 



124 HISTORICAL 

tian Ideal remains practically what it was to the earliest dis- 
ciples, and a force of enormous potency in the world. 

What are the essential features of Mohammedanism? 

Six centuries after the birth of Christianity another 
Semitic religion emerged from the East, this time from 
Arabia, spread with extraordinary rapidity, and became, in 
point of numbers, one of the great religions of mankind. 
Mohammed, although unable to read or write, and of a 
rather morbid, neurotic temperament, had a gift of eloquent 
speech, with great personal magnetism, and aroused a fanat- 
ical devotion to his person and his teachings. By no means 
an impostor, he had a profound belief in himself, intense 
earnestness and sincerity in his mission, and accomplished 
reforms of importance for his people. From his childhood he 
was subject to trances and visions ; and he undoubtedly be- 
lieved himself, like the Old Testament prophets, — whom he 
in many respects resembled, — directly inspired and com- 
missioned of God. It is true that in his later years he became 
an opportunist, manufactured visions to suit his needs, and 
blackened his record by some treacherous and cruel acts. 
But this was still in the service of an ambition that was truly 
national and religious. In the year 622 a.d. he made the 
famous journey — the Hegira — from Mecca to Medina, 
which has since become the starting-point of Moslem chro- 
nology. From that time on his success was meteoric; and 
before he died, a decade later, he stood at the head of a 
great politico-religious empire. 

As is always the case with great religious or political suc- 
cesses, Mohammed appeared at just the right moment. The 
Arabian peoples were experiencing a great renaissance and 
a religious unrest; their sense of nationality was coming to 
consciousness, and a population grown too large for the 
sterile peninsula was on the point of one of those periodic 



LATER CHRISTIANITY; MOHAMMEDANISM 125 

overflows such as have so largely shaped the history of man. 
Mohammed's great work lay in unifying this people. It was 
their differing worship that most kept them apart; and by 
his war-cry, "There is One God, and Mohammed is his 
prophet!" he took the most effective means toward their 
consolidation. There was already a strong drift toward 
monotheism among the people; Jewish and Christian ideas 
had played considerable part therein. But it was reserved 
for Mohammed to complete the process. The unity and ab- 
solute sovereignty of Allah was his dominating idea; all the 
other gods were to be viewed as created and subordinate 
beings. The simplicity and universality of the conception 
won rapid allegiance; and the fierce Bedouin tribes united 
under the banner of Allah to spread their new gospel by the 
sword. By 700 a.d. the sway of the new religious state had 
become as wide as that of Christianity at the time of Con- 
stantine; and but for its defeat by Charles Martel, at the 
battle of Tours, it might have overrun western Europe as it 
did Asia, Africa, and the Balkan peninsular. 

The chief religious value of Mohammedanism — besides 
its banishing of earlier superstitions — lies in its demand of 
absolute loyalty to Allah and acquiescence in his will. Allah 
is an absolute monarch, majestic, inscrutable, omnipotent; 
there is in him a complete lack of the intimate fatherliness 
and love of the Christian God. But the loyal allegiance to 
his commands and the loyal submission to his will have 
brought a large measure of selflessness and peace into the 
hearts of devout Moslems. And the fatalistic view of his pur- 
poses has endowed them with a reckless courage unsurpassed 
in the history of man. The Mohammedan creed is militant, 
prescribing a Holy War against infidels; it is lacking in the 
gentler and sweeter traits of Christianity; and it has not 
hitherto proved progressive. It legitimates slavery, polyg- 
amy, easy divorce on the part of the husband, and promises 



126 HISTORICAL 

sexual delights in a very material Paradise. The humiliating 
position of women throughout the Mohammedan world of 
to-day is largely due to the insane jealousy of the Prophet. 
The injunction of almsgiving — emphasized by Mohammed 
because of his own needy and orphaned childhood — has 
been responsible for the maintenance of a perpetual horde of 
beggars wherever his doctrine is preached. The one great 
moral contribution of the religion is its prohibition of alco- 
holic drinks, which has kept the Mohammedan world reason- 
ably free from that curse of Christendom. The Koran, with 
its bizarre visions and utter lack of charm of style or orderly 
arrangement, is among the most tedious and confusing of 
sacred books. A collection of fragments of remembered dis- 
courses of the Prophet, made some time after his death, and 
arranged in order of length, it has been rather barren men- 
tal food for the millions whose religion it contains. On the 
whole, and apart from its initial value in consolidating and 
arousing a hitherto disorganized and inarticulate people, 
Mohammedanism seems to have little in it of the highest 
worth for mankind. 

S. Dill, Roman Society from Nero to Marcus Aurelius, bk. rv; 
Roman Society in the last Century of the Roman Empire, bk/i. 
C. Bigg, The Church's Task under the Roman Empire. A. Sabatier, 
Religions of Authority and the Religion of the Spirit, bk. i, chaps, 
n-v; bk. ii, chaps, i-ii. S. Reinach, Orpheus, chap. xi. A. V. G. 
Allen, Christian Institutions. J. B. Carter, Religious Life of Ancient 
Rome, chaps, rv-vm. A. C. Flick, Rise of the Mediaeval Church. 
H. B. Workman, Church of the West in the Middle Ages; and several 
other books. R. Sohm, Outlines of Church History. P. Schaff, 
History of the Christian Church. G. P. Fisher, History of Christian 
Doctrine; History of the Reformation. A. C. McGiffert, Protestant 
Thought before Kant; Martin Luther. E. C. Moore, Outline of the 
History of Christian Thought since Kant. S. Ckeetham, History 
of the Christian Church since the Reformation. W. S. Crowe, Phases 
of Religious Life in America. 



LATER CHRISTIANITY; MOHAMMEDANISM 127 

D. B. Macdonald, Aspects of Islam; Religious Attitude and Life 
in Islam. S. Reinach, Orpheus, chap. vi. A. Menzies, History of 
Religion, chap. xni. T. W. ATnold, Preaching of Islam. W. St. C. 
Tisdall, Religion of the Crescent. E. Sill, Faith of Islam. F. A. 
Klein, Religion of Islam. Syed Ameer Ali, Spirit of Islam. Articles 
in Hasting's and Schajf-Herzog Encyclopaedia, and Encyclopaedia 
Britannica. Harvard Theological Review, vol. 5, p. 474. 



SUMMARY OF PART I 

What has been the trend of religious evolution? 

From the welter of primitive superstitions to the pure and 
noble ideals of Buddhism, Judaism, and Christianity is a far 
journey. But the causes that have produced these profound 
changes in belief and practice are, in general, not difficult to 
discern. We are not to think of the mere unfolding of a uni- 
versal and always latent "religious instinct"; nor is the road 
from the naive animism of savage peoples to the concepts of 
modern liberal religion a highway along which mankind as a 
whole have advanced. Rather, there have been innumer- 
able experiments and failures; beliefs have dawned, thrilled 
their converts, and disappeared; the religions that have sur- 
vived have grown far from the visions of their founders, and 
show the marks of many a struggle and change. In this 
sphere, as everywhere, the evolutionary process has pro- 
duced widely different results under differing conditions. 
And if a large proportion of living men to-day subscribe to 
rather closely analogous creeds, it is simply because the in- 
tercommunication of modern life, together with the many 
unifying forces at work, has made it possible for a few faiths 
to override and supersede their numerous rivals. 

Religion is, at its beginning, not something new injected 
into human life; it emerges rather through that gradual dif- 
ferentiation of human interests which also marked out the 
spheres of art and science. Closely bound up with the social 
structure of primitive life, the development of religious ideas 
is to be explained largely in terms of contemporary social 
and intellectual change. Whatever activities and ideas and 



SUMMARY OF PART I 129 

interests are vital in the tribal life are sure to be reflected in 
religious practices. Thus religious evolution is not a self- 
contained process, carrying within itself its own explanation, 
as an acorn might be said to contain the germ of all that the 
oak is to be. On the contrary, a religion may veer in any 
direction, under the influence of current science and philos- 
ophy, the conscious or unconscious manipulation of priests, 
the political status and cultural development of the people. 
The mutual intercourse of tribes brought alien products into 
the various home-grown cults; and the eventual dominance 
of one or other was determined chiefly by the physical su- 
periority of the conquering nations. Great personalities 
moulded the religion of their countrymen in the direction of 
their personal visions and ideals. The innumerable forces at 
work shaping tribal or national morals put their stamp 
equally upon religious practices and ideas, which are in early 
life a hardly distinguishable aspect thereof. 1 

Yet, as in the case of moral evolution, so in religious evo- 
lution, a few simple constant forces determine in the end the 
direction of development. Whatever variations of belief and 
practice may arise, there is in the long run a natural selection 
for survival of those that meet certain underlying human 
needs. These needs are threefold: for consolation, for in- 
spiration, and for comprehension. In general, and in the 
long run, those conceptions tend to prevail which are happier 
and more hopeful; those which are more moral, or spiritual 
— i.e., which lead the believer into the better ways of life; 
and those which are more rational, more in harmony with 
men's observations of what is true or probable. Such beliefs 
have an inherent stability which is lacking to the gloomy or 
fearful beliefs, to the immoral practices, and to the more 
fantastic and obviously irrational conceptions. It is impos- 

1 For a detailed discussion of these forces see my Problems of Conduct, 
Part i. 



130 HISTORICAL 

sible for most of us to-day to believe, for example, in original 
sin and predestination to damnation; to worship the cruel 
and immoral gods of Babylon — or, for that matter, of the 
prophet Samuel x or of Calvin; to take seriously the pre- 
dicted world-catastrophes of the book of Revelation or the 
Heaven and Hell of Dante. To judge from observable tend- 
encies, the goal of religious evolution would seem to be a 
faith that shall be cheering, pure in its morality, and in har- 
mony with the dicta of our scientific knowledge of the world. 

The most striking example of the working of the first of 
these three forces is to be found in the growth and spread 
of monotheism. Polytheism, although a more natural and 
instinctive reaction to the complex and often opposed forces 
of nature, leaves the mind confused and hope uncertain. 
However favorably disposed a god may be, his power is lim- 
ited by that of other and perhaps less beneficent beings. 
Athene, for example, was sure to work for the city that bore 
her name; but Hera's power was also to be reckoned with. 
Jehovah would fight for his tribes, but so would Baal and 
Chemosh for theirs. Only when the belief should grow up in 
a single god of all peoples, all-powerful and beneficent, could 
men feel wholly confident in his strength. Such a belief grew 
up in several places, under the influence of somewhat differ- 
ing causes. But the monotheism of the Greeks was too spec- 
ulative, too lacking in roots in the soil, to spread far beyond 
the circle of the educated or survive the overthrow of Hel- 
lenic culture. The monotheism of the Brahmanic priests 
was likewise too speculative, and lacking in warmth of hu- 
man interests and idealism, so that it waned before the more 
spiritual atheism of Buddha — although the hunger for a 
God in whom to trust quickly found another object in the 
worship of Buddha himself. 

But the monotheistic development of greatest ultimate 
1 Cf. 1 Sam. chap. 15. 



SUMMARY OF PART I 131 

significance was that which took place within the Hebrew 
religion. The enhancement of Jehovah's powers until he 
came to be thought of as the only god worthy of worship, 
and finally as the only existing god, was a process much 
closer to the practical life of men ; it was linked with histori- 
cal and local events, and brought into play the patriotism 
and moral fervor of an intense and ardent people. Instead 
of offering a vague hope, such as we find in Marcus Aurelius, 
that events are ultimately governed by reason and therefore 
to be patiently, even loyally, acquiesced in, it brought, in its 
eventual form, a pledge to the individual of the fulfillment of 
his personal hopes and longings. A belief so inspiring as this 
found ready and tenacious acceptance; no wonder that it 
swept over the western world. What made it prevail was, 
of course, not any evidence of its truth, but the immense con- 
solation and hope it brought to the hearts of men. 

The prevailing power of the higher moral conceptions in a 
religion is to be seen in the rise of many faiths, as, notably, 
Zoroastrianism and Buddhism. But its most striking exam- 
ple is the prophetic movement among the Hebrews, culmi- 
nating in the tender and noble ideals of Christ and the early 
Christians. The dominance of Christianity is to be explained 
quite as much on the ground of the greater spirituality of its 
ideals as on the ground of its consolation and hope. 

Finally, the survival value of rationality in a religion is 
best seen in the conflict of beliefs within Christianity, and 
the process, gradual but sure, by which those forms of the 
religion which are most sharply in conflict with reason and 
science are becoming discredited and yielding place to inter- 
pretations of the faith that are consonant with the intellec- 
tual outlook of the modern world. 



PART II 
PSYCHOLOGICAL 



CHAPTER IX 

THE GOD OF EXPERIENCE 

We have now glanced at the most significant landmarks 
in the history of religion, and are in a position to pick out its 
essential phenomena for closer scrutiny. Most prominent, 
perhaps, among these phenomena is the group of beliefs and 
attitudes and acts that cluster about the concept of God. 
And so we may appropriately begin our psychological analy- 
sis of religion by asking what the idea of God has meant to 
men. We are not yet to raise the philosophical — or theolog- 
ical — questions involved, to ask what the objective nature 
of God is, or to explain metaphysically his relation to the 
universe. We are to ask the prior question, How is God re- 
vealed in human experience? or — to put it in other terms 
— What in our human experience gives us the concept of 
God? For the place that the thought of God has in religion 
does not depend primarily upon any theory, and is not a 
mere matter of postulates or hopes or a blind act of credulity. 
It rests rather upon a solid foundation of experience. God- 
experiences (if we may use the phrase) are primary, God- 
theories are secondary. And even if our theorizing, our 
theistic arguments and theodicies, reach no conclusion satis- 
factory to the intellect, these significant experiences remain 
indisputable and precious ; even were we to give up the name 
God, the Reality which we seek to express thereby would 
remain, of profound and momentous importance in the reli- 
gious life of man. 

How does God appear in human experience? 

7. God in nature. The concept of God came into exist- 
ence historically, as we saw in our opening chapter, in three 



136 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

principal ways; it was the crystallization of the awe and rev- 
erence and fear and hope felt in the contemplation of na- 
ture, in the thought of deceased heroes believed to be still 
alive, in the response to the inward pressure of conscience. 
Here already, in the convergence of these three great streams 
of mental tendency, we may detect the basic source of the 
Christian doctrine of the Trinity. God about us and beyond 
us, in the vastness of the cosmic life; God in Christ, the 
highest type of human hero, who sums up in himself, as it 
were, the spiritual power in other lives upon which we must 
lean; God in our own hearts, the Holy Spirit in us, to which 
we must give our whole allegiance if we would find lasting 
satisfaction and peace — our modern trinitarian conception, 
derived as it has been by a devious and blind process of intu- 
ition and reflection, has after all departed not so very far 
from primitive man's spontaneous reactions to the great and 
mysterious forces without and within him. 

Man's earliest attitudes toward nature took a polytheistic 
bent, because the world seems at first an arena in which mul- 
titudinous diverse forces act and react upon one another. 
But in proportion as the world-life becomes understood, its 
underlying unity becomes manifest; and so, by whatever 
roads monotheism is reached, and from whatever causes it 
wins ascendency in men's hearts, it does certainly best fit 
in with our modern thought of the world as a universe. This 
universe we describe, as best we can, fragmentarily and im- 
perfectly, in terms of natural law. But the mechanical 
aspect of the world-process is but one aspect. From the 
scientific point of view the universe may turn out to be 
throughout a vast machine. But, if so, that will still not be 
the whole story about it. For our worldly, industrial life 
this will be its most important aspect; but not for our emo- 
tional, contemplative, aesthetic, moral, religious life. The 
world will still be infinitely beautiful, ineffably wonderful, 



THE GOD OF EXPERIENCE 137 

endlessly inspiring; it will still be the source and matrix of 
all that is best in us, and the guaranty of the eventual dom- 
inance of that best. Regular and clock-like as may be the 
processes of its life-history, that life will nevertheless be 
moving on, irresistibly and surely, toward the ideal that it 
has itself engendered. Whatever else may be true of the cos- 
mos, this also is true, and is the significant fact for our reli- 
gious life; it is so constituted as to develop in us a spiritual 
life, and to push us, whether we will or no, into that spiritual 
life; it is a world-process that makes toward an ideal. 

It were a sad incident in the intellectual and practical de- 
velopment of man if he should lose this primitive awe and 
humility before the beauty and wonder of the world. " You 
remember that fancy of Plato's, of a man who had grown to 
maturity in some dark distance, and was brought on a sud- 
den into the upper air to see the sun rise. What would his 
wonder be, his rapt astonishment at the sight we daily wit- 
ness with indifference! With the free open sense of a child, 
yet with the ripe faculty of a man, his whole heart would be 
kindled by that sight, he would discern it well to be Godlike, 
his soul would fall down in worship before it. . . . This green, 
flowery, rock-built earth, the trees, the mountains, rivers, 
many-sounding seas; — that great deep sea of azure that 
swims overhead; the winds sweeping through it; the black 
cloud fashioning itself together, now pouring out fire, now 
hail and rain; what is it? Aye, what? At bottom we do not 
yet know; we can never know at all. It is not by our superior 
insight that we escape the difficulty; it is by our superior 
levity, our inattention, our want of insight. It is by not 
thinking that we cease to wonder at it. . . . This world, after 
all our science and sciences, is still a miracle, wonderful, in- 
scrutable, magical and more, to whosoever will think of it. 
. . . What is it? Ah, an unspeakable, Godlike thing; toward 
which the best attitude for us, after never so much science, 



138 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

is awe, devout prostration and humility of soul; worship, 
if not in words, then in silence. . . . To primeval men, all 
things and everything they saw exist beside them were an 
emblem of the Godlike, of some God. And look what peren- 
nial fibre" of truth was in that. To us also, through every 
star, through every blade of grass, is not a God made visible, 
if we will open our minds and eyes? . . . Every object has a 
divine beauty in it ... is a window through which we may 
look into Infinitude itself." l 

The great seers and poets have been men who have felt 
more vividly than the average man the presence of this God 
" in whom we live and move and have our being." To the 
psalmist "the heavens declare the glory of God"; for 
Wordsworth there is in nature 

"A presence that disturbs me with the joy 
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime 
Of something far more deeply interfused, 
"Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, 
And the round ocean and the living air, 
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man; 
A motion and a spirit, that impels 
All thinking things, all objects of all thought, 
And rolls through all things." 2 

In similar vein Max Miiller writes, "Look at the dawn, and 
forget for a moment your astronomy; and I ask you whether, 
when the dark veil of the night is slowly lifted, and the air 
becomes transparent and alive, and light streams forth, you 
know not whence, you would not feel that your eye were 
looking into the very eye of the Infinite?" And Emerson, 
"If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, 
how would men believe and adore; and preserve for many 

1 Carlyle, Heroes and Hero Worship: The Hero as Divinity. 

2 Wordsworth's religion seems to have been based almost exclusively 
upon this nature- worship, this joyful recognition of the divineness of the 
natural world. And it seems to have been a stimulating and satisfactory 
religion. See Seeley, pp. 94-102. 



THE GOD OF EXPERIENCE 139 

generations the remembrance of the city of God which had 
been shown! But every night come out these envoys of 
beauty, and light the universe with their admonishing smile. 
. . . All natural objects make a kindred impression, when the 
mind is open to their influence. ... In the woods, we return 
to reason and faith. Standing on the bare ground, — my 
head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite 
space, — all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent 
eyeball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Univer- 
sal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of 
God." l 

In such moments of insight the religious man finds an 
added inspiration in the thought that he is himself a part of 
this divine order which overwhelms his imagination, caught 
by the same resistless currents of being, and sharing the 
universal destinies. No amount of scientific analysis and de- 
scription can annul the truth of these hours of vision. And 
so, "when men say, 'As for God, we know nothing of him; 
science knows nothing of him; it is a name belonging to an 
extinct system of philosophy'; I think they are playing with 
words. By what name they call the object of their contem- 
plation is in itself a matter of little importance. Whether 
they say God, or prefer to say Nature, the important thing 
is that their minds [be] filled with the sense of a Power to all 
appearance infinite and eternal, a Power to which their 
own being is inseparably connected, in the knowledge of 
whose ways alone is safety and wellbeing, in the contempla- 
tion of which they find a beatific vision. ... I cannot believe 
any religion to be healthy that does not start from Nature- 
worship." 2 

II. God in our hearts — the Holy Spirit. The contempla- 
tive side of religion, the vision of God in nature, is important 
and abiding. But the directest avenue to God is through 
1 Nature, chap. i. 2 Seeley, pp. 22, 24. 



140 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

obedience; he is not so much in the wind or the earthquake 
or the fire as in the still, small voice within us; and it is the 
pure in heart that see God. In the uprush of noble feeling 
and high resolve, in the power for good that wells up, some- 
times so unexpectedly, within us, God is most surely re- 
vealed. It matters little whether this inflow of the Holy 
Spirit can be described or not in natural terms; the Spirit is 
holy not because of its miraculous way of working, but be- 
cause its influence in our life is divine. The practically sig- 
nificant fact is that if we open our hearts, God will enter in 
and regenerate our lives; this power is ready for our use if 
we will cease to kick against the pricks, and lay hold of it. 
There, within us, is to be found not only our selfishness and 
our passion, but at least a seed of the Divine Will; and so all- 
important is this fact that religion has been defined as the 
life of God in the soul of man. Even when he sins and for- 
gets God, this fountain of good is still invisibly within him, 
abiding even amid the riot and jungle of his inmost life, ever 
and again reminding him that there is a law above his own 
will which he may not, at his peril, disobey. 1 

By the " fear of God " truly religious men have meant, not 
their terror at a hostile environment, but their recognition 
of the authority of this higher law over their capricious wills. 
The direction conduct must take is not to be decided by our 
impulse or fancy; it is decreed from the beginning of the 
world. If we infringe these eternal laws, framed in the very 
constitution of the universe, we cannot escape the penalty. 
" The fear of the Lord — that is wisdom; to depart from evil 

1 Cf . Emerson, " It is a secret which every intelligent man quickly learns, 
that beyond the energy of his possessed and conscious intellect, he is capa- 
ble of a new energy (as of an intellect doubled on itself) by abandonment to 
the nature of things; that besides his power as an individual man, there is a 
great public power upon which he can draw, by unlocking at all risks his 
human doors, and suffering the ethereal tides to roll and circulate through 
him." 



THE GOD OF EXPERIENCE 141 

is understanding. " l " O Lord, I know that the way of man 
is not in himself; it is not in man that walketh to direct his 
steps." 2 That this unescapable authority of God has been 
supposed to imply a literal oral command by a "magnified, 
non -natural man," a tribal patron-god speaking from his 
home on his Sacred Mountain, need not disturb us; though 
no finger of Jehovah wrote the decalogue, it is no less bind- 
ing upon us. No rationalization of religion can make duty 
less divine. Who is the fool who says there is no God? He is 
the moral nihilist, the cynic, or the worldly man, who laughs 
at duty and follows the passions of the moment. Neverthe- 
less — " though there be many devices in a man's heart, the 
counsel of the Lord, that shall stand." 3 

But this fear of God, in the truly devout and aspiring soul, 
becomes the deepest joy; in loyalty to the God within him 
he finds the only road to lasting peace. He is now bound to 
his brother-men by the deepest bond; for the God-element 
in him is akin to that in them, a spark from the same eternal 
fire. Each separate reaching out for the good, each act of 
self-sacrifice, is felt not as standing alone, but as a part of 
the seeking and working of mankind toward God; or, to put 
it the other way, as a part of the gradual realization of God 
in human life. 

1 Job 28 : 28. The peculiarity of Hebrew poetry by which the second line 
of a couplet repeats the meaning of the first line in other words shows 
clearly the practical equivalence in the poet's mind of the two phrases. 
Indeed, in Pro v. 8 : 13 we read, "The fear of the Lord is to hate evil.". 

2 Jer. 10:23. 

3 Prov. 19 : 21. Cf. Arnold, Literature and Dogma, pp. Ill, 38: "The idea 
of God, as it is given us in the Bible, rests not on a metaphysical conception 
. . . but on a moral perception of a rule of conduct not of our own making, 
into which we are born, and which exists whether we will or no; of awe at 
its grandeur and necessity, and of gratitude at its beneficence." "To 
please God, to serve God, to obey God's will, means to follow a law of 
things which is found in conscience, and which is an indication, irrespective 
of our arbitrary wish and fancy, of what we ought to do. There is a real 
power which makes for righteousness; and it is the greatest of realities for us." 



142 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

III. God in Christ. But if in some degree in all of us the 
Holy Spirit lives, it is especially incarnate in the spiritual 
heroes of mankind; and above all — for us, at least, of Chris- 
tendom — in Christ. " Somehow Jesus seems to sum up and 
focus the religious ideal for mankind"; l he is the supreme 
incarnation of the Divine in human nature; so that the words 
could fitly be put into his mouth, "He that hath seen me 
hath seen the Father." 2 We need not, therefore, however 
rationalistic our temper, balk at the phraseology that calls 
Christ divine; the truth that is to be conveyed by such lan- 
guage is not inconsistent with a truly historical view of his 
life and teachings, and does not necessarily imply anything 
miraculous or supernatural. To the popular mind, indeed, 
Jesus has often figured as very God; but the deity and the 
divinity of Christ are far from identical conceptions. The 
Church in its official dogma has steadily clung to the asser- 
tion that Jesus was thoroughly human; his divineness was 
only such as could be expressed in a human life. His will was 
wholly merged with the will of God, there was no selfishness 
left in him, no self-indulgence; it was his meat to do the will 
of the Father. The Christ-life is the divine life for men, the 
measure of the amount of godliness that our nature is capable 
of. To call his life divine is not in the least to assert that 
Jesus was born of a virgin, wrought miracles, or rose from 
the tomb; it is an entirely different sort of judgment, a value- 
judgment. The facts about his life must be decided by histor- 
ical methods, as we would sift the records of the life of any 
other personage of the past; no ardent believer or intrenched 
ecclesiasticism ought to attempt to bias the impartial judg- 
ment of scholars upon them. But the question of the divine- 

1 R. J. Campbell, The New Theology, p. 70. 

2 Even those who most completely deify Jesus do not identify him with 
the Father; so that the sense of such sayings as these clearly is not that 
Jesus is God, but that he is a revelation of God; that if any one wishes to see 
what God is like, he must look at Jesus. 



THE GOD OF EXPERIENCE 143 

ness of this life is to be decided by men of spiritual vision. 
And the verdict of truly religious men is all but unanimous; 
the great warrior, the great statesman, the great inventor, 
the great poet, have a veritable spark of God in them; but 
the life that is most truly divine, that most fully reaches up 
to God, is the life of purity and charity and self-sacrifice. 
Preeminent among such lives, dazzling men of all races and 
degrees of culture for the two millenniums since he lived, is 
the life of the carpenter of Nazareth. 

In view of the confusion in which the popular mind — and 
the mind, we may add, of many a theologian — has rested 
on this matter, it will be worth while to make more explicit 
what should have been clear enough from our study of the 
life of Christ, namely, his thoroughgoing humanity. En- 
crusted as the records are with miracles and marvels — - 
which it is by no means possible or desirable categorically to 
deny — they do not fail to preserve hints and implications 
of his normal human limitations. He shared the physical 
weakness of men, being often weary and depressed, suffering 
all the anguish of other mortals as his cruel death drew near, 
and lacking strength to carry his cross. He shared the igno- 
rance of men, not only in his boyhood, 1 but throughout his 
life; the hour when the Messianic Kingdom was to be in- 
augurated he said that no man knew, not even he himself, 
who expected to play the leading part. 2 He knew presum- 
ably no science, knew little of the life and history of the 
world, shared the local contemporary beliefs and hopes of his 
fellows, was possessed in the last months or years of his life 
by a passionate conviction which, in its literal form, can only 
be called a pathetic delusion. He was tempted, as all men 
are; and we have no means of knowing, really, that he was 

1 We are told that he "grew in wisdom" (Luke 2:52), which implies 
relative ignorance at least in his earlier years. 

2 Mark 24 : 36. 



144 : PSYCHOLOGICAL 

absolutely without sin. Human nature is not capable of om- 
nipotence or omniscience; it is perhaps not capable of sin- 
lessness. But Christ can be all the more surely our model of 
inspiration if we can think of him as facing life with only such 
resources and faculties as other men have, and yet making 
out of them so sublime a life. 

Nor do we need to consider him as altogether unique in his 
divineness; if he said, "I and my father are one," he went on 
to pray that his disciples might be one with God even as he 
was. He summoned all men to the divine life, he thought of 
them all as sons of God; he was, as Paul said, but " the first 
born among many brethren," 1 the first to find the secret of 
life which was open to all. "As many as received him, to 
them gave he power to become the sons of God." 2 "The 
works that I do shall he do also, and greater works than 
these shall he do." 3 We all have a spark at least of the di- 
vine in us, and may aim to attain to the measure of the 
stature of the fullness of Christ. 

"Was Christ a man like us? Ah, let us try 
If we then too can be such men as he." 4 

We may not refuse to grant recognition to the divinity living 
in many a saint and prophet; there is no honor to Christ 
in setting him utterly apart from his brethren. 

Nevertheless, as a matter of record, it was Christ who has 
done most to save men; his life remains in a sense unique 
in the realm of the spiritual. He not only lived his life di- 
vinely, but he has been ever since drawing men unto him. 
Many humble Christians have come close to the pattern; 
through their lives also God has been revealed. But after 
all, they are disciples; Christ was master. He blazed the 

1 Rom. 8 : 29. 2 John 1 : 12. 

3 John 14 : 12. Of course these sayings from the Fourth Gospel are not 
quoted as Christ's own words; but they may well echo genuine sayings. 

4 Matthew Arnold, The Better Part. 



THE GOD OF EXPERIENCE 145 

path; it is easier to follow. And such disciples are quickest to 
admit that they have fallen short of the pattern. " The 
difference between the Man of Galilee of the first century 
and the man of England and America in the nineteenth cen- 
tury, if I understand my gospels aright, is not in inherent 
capacity to draw near God, but in the relative degree of 
realization of a latent power common to humanity. It is 
this that has created the uniqueness of Jesus." * 

Thus the doctrine of the Trinity, however foreign to our 
modern thought the terms in which the old creeds phrase it, 
has a very real basis in experience. If we try to regard it as 
the description of a quasi-human Being who is three persons 
and yet one, we may well balk at such an amazing example 
of the Greek genius for speculative subtleties. But if we take 
the conception in its inner and rational sense, we shall recog- 
nize that Christians attain to the vision of God in three lead- 
ing ways — through the contemplation of the outer world, 
through obedience to the Holy Spirit in their hearts, and 
through faith in their Master Christ. 

What is the nature of God as thus revealed? 

God is usually conceived by the Christian as having con- 
sciousness, will, and emotions, as possessed of omniscience, 
omnipotence, and omnipresence, and as creator and ruler of 
the universe. Some of the arguments which are commonly 
offered in support of belief in these various attributes of God 
we shall discuss in due course. But it is only, at best, by 
some process of deduction that we can hope to arrive at such 
conceptions; as actually revealed in experience, God is — 
what we have just pointed out. God is the great Power that 
we see making for good in the world, that lives indestructibly 
in our own hearts, that burst into radiant flame in the soul 
1 Rev. Anson Phelps Stokes, in the Outlook, vol. 97, p. 505. 



146 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

of Christ. The laws by which this Good works through the 
long evolutionary process we can dimly discern; its supreme 
importance we universally acknowledge; but what its ulti- 
mate nature, source, and goal may be is not writ upon the 
face of experience. We may then sympathize with Arnold's 
protest against the current "insane license of affirmation 
about God"; and, on the other hand, be tolerant and open- 
minded toward those conceptions of God — pantheistic, 
deistic, naturalistic, or what not — which are alien to that 
conception to which we have grown accustomed. 1 

But because we do not agree in our ideas of the objective 
nature of God, it by no means follows that there is any doubt 
of God's reality. On the contrary, when men call themselves 
atheists and speak of the belief in God as exploded, it is 
some specific and elaborated conception of God of which 
they are thinking, and which they mean to deny. And al- 
though belief or disbelief in the personality or the omnipo- 
tence of God, for example, is a matter for most serious 
thought, we must insist that to be unconvinced of these at- 
tributes is not at all to doubt the vital reality of God in the 
world and in our lives. 2 There are hypotheses about God, 

1 Cf. Arnold further (Literature and Dogma, pp. 10-11), "People use 
[the term "God"] as if it stood for a perfectly definite and ascertainable 
idea, from which we might, without more ado, extract propositions and 
draw inferences, just as we should from any other definite and ascertained 
idea. . . . But, in truth, the word ' God ' is used in most cases as by no means 
a term of science or exact knowledge, but a term of poetry and eloquence, 
a term thrown out, so to speak, at a not fully grasped object of the speaker's 
consciousness, a literary term, in short; and mankind mean different things 
by it as their consciousness differs." 

2 Cf. Seeley, pp. 43-44, 104, 41, 50. "Controversies may be raised about 
the human as well as about the Divine Being. Some may consider the hu- 
man body as the habitation of a soul distinct and separable from it; some 
may maintain that man is merely the collective name for a number of proc- 
esses. . . . All these differences may be almost as important as they seem 
to the disputants who are occupied about them; but after all, they do not 
affect the fact that the human being is there, and they do not prevent us 
from regarding him with strong feelings. The same is true of the Divine 



THE GOD OF EXPERIENCE 147 

there may be a childlike trust in, say, Christ's conception 
of God, there may be a hundred reasons for pinning our faith 
to this or that theistic doctrine; but underneath these over- 
beliefs rests the basic fact that God exists — that there is an 
Ideal working itself out in the historic process, a great Power 
irresistibly drawing us on to some far off and unknown goal, 
and demanding our entire allegiance. 

If we are tempted to become skeptical and discard the 
thought of God because we do not know what he is in him- 
self, we must remember that we know nothing of what any- 
thing is in itself, except our own conscious stream as it 
passes. These material things that surround us we know 
only in terms of the qualities that our sense-organs give 
them. To a color-blind man the red flower is gray; to other 
eyes it might be blue; what is it for itself? We absolutely do 
not know. Or what is electricity? No one doubts its reality: 
we see it illuminating the arc-light, moving our trolley-cars, 
carrying our voices over the wires. But what is it? We talk 
of electrons, of the ether; but what are they? When we see 
the forked lightning, we say "electricity/' we recognize the 
presence of a great power. When we see a sinner saved sud- 

Being." "An age which is called atheistic, and in which atheism is loudly 
professed, shows in all its imaginative literature a religiousness — a sense 
of the Divine — which was wanting in the more orthodox ages. Before 
Church traditions had been freely tested, there was one rigid way of think- 
ing about God. . . . Accordingly, when doubt was thrown upon the doc- 
trines of the Church, there seemed an imminent danger of atheism, and we 
have still the habit of denoting by this name the denial of that conception of 
God which the Church has consecrated. But by the side of this gradual 
obscuring of the ecclesiastical view of God, there has gone on a gradual re- 
discovery of Him in another aspect. . . . The modern views of God, so far 
as they go, have a reality — a freshness that the others wanted. . . . His 
presence is felt really and not merely asserted in hollow professions." "Of 
atheism, that demoralizing palsy of human nature, which consists in the 
inability to discern in the Universe any law by which human life may be 
guided, there is in the present age less danger than ever." "Atheism in its 
full sense will become a thing impossible when no man shall be altogether 
without the sense, at once inspiring and sobering, of an eternal order." 



148 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

denly from despair and filled with a humble consciousness of 
victory over sin, we say "God"; we recognize the presence 
of a power of vastly greater significance and far more worthy 
of our adoration. It is not a question of argument or proof, 
it is a question of sight; God is not a hypothesis but a 
fact. 

Nor need we fret because our immediate knowledge of God 
is so limited; we know what it is necessary that we should 
know. We know that we are not alone in our endeavors, not 
futilely setting up mere subjective aspirations; the universe 
is on the side of our better selves. We know that at all costs 
we must follow the gleam. 1 

It would be foolish, then, and fraught with danger, to cease 
from thinking and speaking of God because much of unso- 
phisticated man's thought of God is shown to be naive and 
a projection of his own imagination. " To seek to discard, 
like some philosophers, the name of God and to substitute 
for it such a name as the Unknowable, will seem to a plain 
man, surely, ridiculous. For ... no man could ever have 
cared anything about God in so far as he is simply unknow- 
able. . . . Men cared about God for the sake of what they 
knew about him, not of what they did not. ... It adds, in- 
deed, to our awe of God that although we are able to know of 
him what so greatly concerns us, we know of him nothing 
more; but simply to be able to know nothing of him could 
beget in us no awe whatever. . . . Everything turns on its 
being at realities that this worship and its language are 

1 Cf. John Fiske, Cosmic Philosophy, vol. n, p. 470: "Deity is unknow- 
able just in so far as it is not manifested to consciousness through the phe- 
nomenal world, — knowable just in so far as it is thus manifested . . . 
knowable, in a symbolic way, as the Power which is disclosed in every throb 
of the mighty rhythmic life of the universe; knowable as the eternal source 
of a Moral Law which is implicated with each action of our lives. . . . Thus, 
though we may not by searching find out God, though we may not compass 
infinitude or attain to absolute knowledge, we may at least know all that it 
concerns us to know, as intelligent and responsible beings." 



THE GOD OF EXPERIENCE 149 

aimed. Its anthropomorphic language about God is aimed 
at a vast, though ill-apprehended, reality." * God is a real- 
ity; and we must remember that though our actual experi- 
ence of God be narrowly limited, he may none the less be all 
that the faith of the saints has deemed him to be — and how 
much more that we cannot now imagine, that it hath not 
entered into the mind of man to conceive! 2 

But however this may be, the important thing is, not to 
assent to the truth of God's existence, but to feel his reality 
and be dominated by it; to recognize a Law above our pri- 
vate wills, to cast aside all willfulness and cynicism and little- 
mindedness, to acknowledge the infinite worth of life and the 
infinite importance of duty. The true atheism is a want of 
belief in the meaning and value of life, a refusal to join forces 
with the great tides that are making for good in the world; a 
despair of human life and a deafness to its summons. There 
is no merit or value in a belief in God that makes no practi- 
cal difference; the only important thing is to get into our 
lives the great experiences and the vital faith which that 
word connotes. For though our definitions of God be differ- 
ent, and our opinions about him vary from age to age, if we 
have the fear and love of God in our hearts, our theological 
opinions are of little moment. 

1 Arnold, God and the Bible, Preface. Cf. E. Renan, Intolerance in Scep- 
ticism (in The Poetry of the Celtic Races and Other Studies) : "The word God 
being respected by humanity, having for it a long-acquired right, and hav- 
ing been employed in all beautiful poetry, to abandon it would be to over- 
throw all habits of language. Tell the simple to pass their lives in aspiration 
after truth, and beauty, and moral goodness; and your words will be mean- 
ingless to them. Tell them to love God, and not to offend God; and they 
will understand you perfectly. . . . Even supposing that for us philosophers 
another word were preferable, and without taking into account the fact 
that abstract words do not express real existence with sufficient clarity, 
there would be an immense inconvenience in thus cutting ourselves away 
from all the poetic sources of the past, and in separating ourselves by our 
language from the simple folk who worship so well in their own way." 

2 For our right to these further beliefs about God, see below, pp. 402-11. 



150 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

God in human experience: T. H. Green, Witness of God (in Two 
Sermons). J. B. Pratt, Psychology of Religious Belief, chaps, ix-x. 
G. A. Coe, Religion of a Mature Mind, chap. xm. M. Arnold, Liter- 
ature and Dogma, chap. i. God and the Bible, Preface, and chaps. 
i-iii. J. R. Seeley, Natural Religion, pt. i. W. E. Hocking, Mean- 
ing of God in Human Experience, pt. iv. O. Kuhns, Sense of the 
Infinite. H. A. Youtz, Enlarging Conception of God. Hibbert Jour- 
nal, vol. 11, p. 394. 

The Divinity of Christ: Traditionalistic: W. Sanday, Christologies, 
Ancient and Modern. W. N. Clarke, Outline of Christian Theology, 
pt. iv. O. A. Curtis, The Christian Faith, chaps, xvi-xvii. A. W. 
Moore, Rational Basis of Orthodoxy, chap. vn. J. Caird, Funda- 
mental Ideas of Christianity, lectures xm-xv. Modern: Founda- 
tions, chap. v. E. H. Rowland, Right to Believe, chap. rv. R. J. 
Campbell, New Theology, chaps, v, vn. J. V. Morgan, ed., Theology 
at the Dawn of the Twentieth Century, pp. 249-58. G. A. Gordon, 
Christ of To-day. Youtz, op. cit., chap. vi. New World, vol. 1, p. 14. 
Biblical World, vol. 43, p. 295. American Journal of Theology, vol. 
8, p. 9; vol. 11, p. 290; vol. 15, p. 584. Outlook, vol. 97, p. 503. 

The Trinity: Traditionalistic: Clarke, op. cit., pt. i, sec. iv; The 
Christian Doctrine of God, chap, n, sec. 7. Curtis, op. cit., chap. 
xxxvi. Modern: Campbell, op. cit., chap. vi. C. C. Everett, The- 
ism and the Christian Faith, chap. xxvi. L. Abbott, Letters to 
Unknown Friends, p. 29 /. American Journal of Theology, vol. 12, 
p. 609; vol. 16, p. 528. 



CHAPTER X 

SACRIFICE AND SIN 

Intimately wrapped up with the concept of God are the 
allied concepts of sacrifice, sin, and salvation, which play a 
large role in the religious life. Born, like the idea of God, 
from the superstition and fear of primitive life, and having 
at the outset no spiritual value, these concepts have, like it, 
become gradually moralized until, in their highest expres- 
sions, they embody the noblest aspirations of the soul. 

What is the history of the concepts of sacrifice and sin? 

(1) Primitive sacrifice l was an outward and unspiritual 
act, performed in the hope of winning the favor of the gods 
or averting harm from them. Their disfavor is not at first 
attributed to men's sins, but is as capricious and irrational 
as the thunderbolts and storms and famines that are their 
weapons. Like the exacting and easily irritated tribal chiefs, 
they must be kept placated, must be propitiated if they 
become angry or for their own reasons threaten damage to 
the community or to the individual. 2 All important under- 
takings require their help, or at least their non-interference, 
and must therefore be initiated by some offering to them. 3 
If the undertaking prospers, tribute must, in gratitude and 
with an eye to future favors, be awarded them. 4 If any act 

1 I do not mean to discuss the moot question, what the earliest form of 
sacrifice was. I am content to go back to the conceptions embodied in 
the earlier strata of the Old Testament. 

2 Cf. 1 Sam. 26: 19. Gen. 8: 20. Mai. 1:14. 

3 Gen. 46: 1. Num. chap. 7. 

4 Gen. 4: 3-4. Lev. 7: 12; 21 : 29. Ps. 116: 17. 



152 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

unpleasing to them has been, however unwittingly, com- 
mitted, it must be promptly expiated, by the sacrifice of 
something precious to the worshipers and therefore to them. 1 
The commonest offering is that of food; the god enjoys the 
savory smell or in some invisible manner partakes of it. 2 
This sharing of a meal with the god forms a bond between 
him and his worshipers; the notion of a blood-covenant thus 
ratified is found in many lands. 3 

So imminent loomed the potential wrath of the gods, and 
so anxiously was their assistance sought in the pressing 
struggles of early times, that among many peoples no animal 
food was eaten without the offering of a due share to them; 
and multitudes of priests lived at ease upon these offerings 
of their fellows' fear and credulity. In particular, any marked 
success might provoke the envy of the gods; or else it was 
due to their help; in either case it had to be followed by an 
apportionment to them of their share of the proceeds. The 
Jewish law required the sacrifice of the firstborn of every 
domestic animal, and the firstfruits of every harvest. Even 
the sacrifice of the firstborn child lingered into historic times 
in Israel; though as far back as the time of Abraham it had 
generally been commuted by the substitution of an animal. 4 

(2) Sacrifice as propitiation, tribute, or covenant has 
nothing religious, in the better sense of the word, about it; 
it is simply an act of worldly wisdom, involving no change of 
heart. Unhappily, such an unspiritual conception of sacri- 
fice has not yet been entirely outgrown; the Jewish idea 
of the scapegoat 5 persists in the theological conception of 

1 Lev. 4:6; chap. 16. 

2 Gen. 8: 21. Lev. 1 : 9, 13, 17. Ex. 29: 18. 

3 Ex. 12:3/. Ps. 50:5. 

4 Cf . the reminiscence in Gen. 22 : 1-13. For lingering instances of hu- 
man sacrifice, see 2 Kings 3: 27; 17: 31; 23: 10. 2 Chron. 28: 3. Ezek. 
16: 20-21. See American Journal of Religious Psychology, vol. 2, p. 24. 

5 See Lev. chap. 16. 



SACRIFICE AND SIN 153 

Christ as a propitiatory sacrifice to save men from the pen- 
alty justly attaching to their sins. But this merely exterior 
nature of sacrifice discredited it in the eyes of the great 
prophets of Israel, and they discarded it altogether. Jehovah, 
they said, desires mercy and not sacrifice. "Hath Jehovah 
as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices as in obeying 
the voice of Jehovah? Behold, to obey is better than sacri- 
fice, and to hearken than the fat of rams." "Sacrifice and 
offering thou hast no delight in." "Thou delightest not in 
sacrifice, else would I give it; thou hast no pleasure in burnt- 
offering." "To do righteousness and justice is more accept- 
able to Jehovah than sacrifice." "What unto me is the 
multitude of your sacrifices, saith Jehovah; wash you, make 
you clean, cease to do evil, learn to do well." "For I desire 
goodness and not sacrifice." 1 This point of view was taken 
by Christ; and the early Christians understood that the 
whole Jewish sacrificial system was definitely abrogated. 2 

(3) But while this tendency to let the ancient custom of 
sacrifice lapse prevailed ultimately among most peoples, 
among the Jews and Christians another idea won its way, 
namely, the transformation of sacrifice from an outward to 
an inward matter. Some of the keenest Hebrew moralists 
made effective use of the old phraseology and ingrained 
habits of the people by demanding, not the abolition of sac- 
rifice, but the substitution of a new and higher form of sac- 
rifice. "Offer sacrifices of righteousness." "The sacrifices 
of God are a broken spirit; a broken and a contrite heart, 
O God, thou wilt not despise." 3 And this new conception, 
blending admirably with the Christian gospel, found notable 
expression in apostolic teaching. What was demanded by 

1 1 Sam. 15 : 22. Ps. 40 : 6; 51 : 16. Prov. 21 : 3. Isa. 1 : 11. Hos. 6 : 6. 
Cf. also Amos 5 : 21 ff. Mic. 6 : 6 ff. Jer. 6 : 20. 

2 Cf., e.g., Matt. 9: 13. Mark 12: 33. Heb. 10: 4. 

3 Deut. 33 : 19. Ps. 4 : 5; 51 : 17. 



154 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

God was no longer a material gift, the renunciation of some 
worldly possession, but the gift of a pure and loving heart, 
the renunciation of selfish and sensual desires. "I beseech 
you, therefore, brethren, to present your bodies a living 
sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God — which is your rational 
worship." "To do good and to share forget not; for with 
such sacrifices God is well pleased." l To-day in the vener- 
able Greek and Roman Catholic churches the primitive 
conception of penance and propitiation still to some extent 
persists; but wherever liberal conceptions of Christianity 
prevail it has been quite supplanted by the more rational 
and spiritual idea. God does not need to be appeased; we 
need to be cleansed. The eternal laws of life demand sacri- 
fice — not for those laws' sake, but because, ultimately, 
human welfare itself requires it. And however pathetic and 
futile have been most of the renunciations demanded 
throughout the course of history in the name of religion, 
man has been through them stumbling and groping toward 
the great truth that the best way of life is the way of sacri- 
fice of desire — that he must lose his life who would truly 
find it. 

Parallel with this evolution of the idea of sacrifice has 
gone an evolution of the idea of sin. Early religion every- 
where includes a sense of frequent transgression, with an 
accompanying fear of disaster, attempts at purification, and 
anguish of heart. 2 There was little thought of why an act 

1 Eom. 12:1. Heb. 13:16. 

2 Cf. E. L. Schaub, in Harvard Theological Review, vol. 5, p. 123: "While 
the extent and nature of the particular acts that are considered sinful 
naturally vary with differences in intellectual and spiritual development, 
the consciousness of sin itself, in some form or other and to some degree, is, 
anthropology seems to teach, universal to all peoples of whom we have 
definite knowledge. There is always a more or less explicit consciousness 
of a discrepancy between our actual life and conduct and those ideals and 
postulates which urge themselves upon us as objectively valid." 



SACRIFICE AND SIN 155 

was wrong; it was simply taboo, it must not be done. Even 
acts that were necessary, such as the killing of enemies, the 
handling of sick people and corpses, midwifery, and the like, 
produced a feeling of aversion and pollution and a sense of 
the need of purification; the old Jewish laws are very exact- 
ing in their demands in all such cases. Mishaps were usually 
attributed to some, perhaps unconscious, impropriety; espe- 
cially tribal catastrophes were a sign that something had 
been done amiss. As the gods came to be more and more 
clearly personified, these transgressions became distinctly 
offenses against them; to learn to obey their will became 
an elaborate art, bringing into being oracles, soothsayers, 
augurs, and the like. But still sin was an outward matter, 
denoting no more than ignorant blunder, heedless folly, for- 
ge tfulness or indifference; unwitting, even well-intentioned 
or unavoidable transgression brought on its penalty as well 
as perverse or passionate disobedience. 1 The sense of sin 
was simply the uneasy feeling of having incurred punish- 
ment; and the rituals of purification had for their object to 
wipe off a stain almost as material as blood upon the hands. 

Here, too, however, the vision of the Hebrew prophets saw 
clearly; to them the important matter was not the outward 
act, but the inward loyalty or disobedience. Purity became 
a matter, not of proper observance, but of intent, of the 
direction of desire and the meditations of the heart. Jesus 
put it in classic form in his saying, "There is nothing from 
without the man that going into him can defile him; but the 
things which proceed out of the man are those that defile 
him. . . . For from within, out of the heart of men, evil 
thoughts proceed . . . and defile the man." 2 

A similar moralization of the concept of sin and purity is 

1 Cf. the case of Uzzah, who was struck dead by Jehovah for his appar- 
ently well-meant, and surely very natural and instinctive, movement to pre- 
vent the sacred Ark from toppling over. 2 Sam. 6 : 6-7. 1 Chron. 13 : 9-10. 

2 Mark 7: 14-23. 



156 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

to be traced in other religions. In the Buddhist scriptures 
we read, "Neither abstinence from fish or flesh, nor going 
naked, nor shaving the head . . . nor sacrifices to Agni, will 
cleanse a man. Reading the Vedas, making offerings to 
priests . . . these do not cleanse a man. Anger, drunkenness, 
obstinacy, bigotry . . . these constitute uncleanness." l In 
the Zend Avesta, "Purity is for man, next to life, the highest 
good; that purity, O Zarathustra, that is in the religion of 
Mazda for him who cleanses himself with good thoughts, 
words, and deeds." And in the later Hellenic religion we 
have sentiments like this from the Golden Song of Hierocles, 
"Purity of soul is the only divine service." Thus from a 
superstitious uneasiness at vague and ill-understood dangers, 
and a frantic search for deliverance from impinging pollu- 
tion, there was evolved here and there in the clearing con- 
sciousness of men a loathing of those acts and desires that 
led them from their own ideals and blurred their vision of 
God. 

What are their dangers? 

The Emperor Julian, cleaving, in a world rapidly growing 
Christian, to the sturdy pagan ideals, scorning the senti- 
mentalism and self -distrust which was becoming the fashion, 
is reported to have said on his deathbed, "I die without 
remorse, as I have lived without sin." And many a modern 
thinker — Sir Oliver Lodge is one of the latest — has said 
that men ought to concern themselves little with sin and 
sacrifice, but rather with positive effort and achievement. 
Certainly the sense of sin and the pursuit of purity have had 
their distortions and dangers for men; what these are we 
may now pause to note. 

(1) Too dominant a sense of sin adds a burden to life that 
may overbalance the gain won through the resulting power 
1 Amagandha Sutta, 7: 11. 



SACRIFICE AND SIN 157 

over temptation, and indeed may even paralyze effort. 
Religious chronicles are full of the distress and overconscien- 
tiousness and despair of reasonably good men. St. Paul 
could call himself the chief of sinners; 1 and a hundred 
parallels could be found in the utterances of the saints to 
his outburst, "I know that in me, that is, in my flesh, dwell- 
eth no good thing; for to will is present with me, but to do 
that which is good, is not. For the good that I would I do 
not, but the evil that I would not, that I do. . . . For I de- 
light in the law of God in the inward man, but I see a differ- 
ent law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, 
and bringing me into captivity under the law of sin which is 
in my members. O wretched man that I am! who shall de- 
liver me out of this mortal body?" 2 Modern church litur- 
gies are full of such sentiments as, "We have all sinned and 
there is no health in us." "Lord have mercy upon us, miser- 
able sinners!" There is in this groveling and self -distrusting 
attitude a lack of grit or nerve which revolts the manly soul; 
and religion, countenancing such flabby self-abasement, has 
seemed to many a morbid and sickly affair. 

(2) The longing for purity has led some men to a futile 
asceticism, wherein a cruel self -repression has been practiced, 
apart from its excuse in the real needs of life. St. Simeon 
Stylites on his pillar, the whirling dervishes of India, the 
self-torturing Mohammedan fanatics, the hermits, with 
their ceaseless scourgings and fastings and mortifications of 
the flesh, — these have distorted the true spirit of religion, 
which should bring men life, and life more abundantly. "An 
overemphasis upon self-denial sacrifices unnecessarily the 
sweetness and richness of life, stunts it, distorts it, robs it of 
its natural fruition. The denial of any satisfaction is cruel 
except as it is necessary. Purity carried to a needless ex- 

1 If, indeed, the saying is actually Paul's; 1 Tim. 1: 15. 

2 Rom. 7 : 18-24. 



158 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

treme became celibacy; the virtue of frugality became the 
vice of a starvation diet, producing the emaciated and weak- 
ened saints. The attempt radically to alter and repress 
human nature is nearly always disastrous. Most of the 
ascetics had to pass their days in constant struggles against 
their temptations; and many of them recurrently lapsed 
into wild orgies of sin, the result of pent-up impulses denied 
their natural channels." 1 A pure religion rejects these de- 
formations of its spirit. In so far as renunciation is necessary 
it brings to it a gladness of endurance; beyond that stern 
necessity it bids us not repress but develop our natures; it 
comes not to destroy but to fulfill. 

(3) Another distortion to which the striving for purity is 
subject lies in the extreme of unworldliness. Worldliness 
consists in forgetting the ends of life in absorption in the 
means. The business man who gives his whole thought to 
making money without learning to use it well, the ambitious 
politician who spends his life in seeking office without think- 
ing how through the office he may serve the people, the 
woman who devotes her days to dressmakers and milliners, 
all those whose minds are occupied with the mere instru- 
ments and mechanism of life, are choked with the tares of 
worldliness. They may live on a higher plane than the idler 
or debauche; they may escape the worst pitfalls of life; but 
they do not attain to its highest rewards. The unworldly 
man sees deeper into life, lays hold of the eternal things; 
if he seeks wealth or fame, or cultivates society, it is for the 
ideal ends he can attain therethrough, for the better service 
of his fellows or of God. 

So far unworldliness is good. But it may easily go too far, 
becoming a dread of contamination by the ordinary machin- 
ery of life. When the longing to keep himself unspotted from 
the world leads a man to become a hermit or an idle monk, 
1 Durant Drake, Problems of Conduct, p. 121. 



SACRIFICE AND SIN 159 

to spend his days in useless vigils and prayers instead of 
using his strength for active service, it may bring him an 
inner peace; it may, by removing him from temptation, keep 
him from positive sin; but it leaves him a useless encum- 
brance upon the earth. The truly religious man, though not 
of the world is yet in it, sharing its burdens, meeting its 
temptations, willingly letting himself be tainted, if need be, 
by its dirt and squalor, so his arm can be of use and his 
determination avail in some degree for his fellows. The 
anchoritic and monastic ideals of the Middle Ages did enor- 
mous harm in absorbing the spiritual enthusiasm of the men 
who might otherwise have put their energies and idealism 
into regenerating in some measure the life of the age. 1 

What is their permanent value? 

Morbid and perverted in such ways the sense of sin and 
the longing for purity may become. We should by all means 
seek to avoid these excesses and to cultivate something of 
the healthy common sense of the Greeks, while following the 
deeper insight and finer ideals of Christianity. But if not 
carried too far, the sense of sin and the sting of remorse are 
valuable auxiliaries to the positive religious impulse, never 
without need of every form of help. For after all is said, the 
power of temptation still remains strong for poor stumbling 
human nature; and the religious life must be for most men a 
militant life. If we agree with Arnold that "All thinking 
about [sin] beyond what is indispensable for the firm effort 
to get rid of it is waste of energy and waste of time," we must 
also realize the truth of his further words, "This sense of sin, 
however, it is also possible to have not strongly enough to 
beget the firm effort to get rid of it." 2 The danger of our 

1 For an estimate of the good and evil in monasticism, see H. B. Work- 
man, The Evolution of the Monastic Ideal ; J. 0. Hannay, Spirit and Origin 
of Christian Monasticism. 

2 Matthew Arnold, St. Paul and Protestantism, chap. i. 



160 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

times lies rather in this latter direction, in ceasing to think 
enough of the awfulness of sin. This at least can be confi- 
dently said: if our theory of life includes no sacrifice, no 
stern self-repression, if it makes life out to be an easy task 
and offers impulse and passion right of way, it is a mistaken 
theory. Success in life is not to be so cheaply bought. The 
prohibition is not external but internal, inherent in the very 
structure of human nature; sin is the wreck of life, and purity 
its natural ideal. 1 

Religion has, therefore, been right, not only in demanding 
instant and unquestioning obedience to the right, but in 
bidding a man hate the wrong and label it by an odious 
name. His inner conflicts are thereafter no longer between 
two opposing impulses that differ only in relative worth, 
they are between Right and Wrong, between Duty and Sin. 
The first stage of the religious life begins at the point when 
a man accepts what were else merely an expedient manner 
of life as unconditionally binding upon him, as the will of 
God. The highest stage is reached when all his random and 
mistaken impulses are eradicated, when he no longer desires 
to follow anything but the right, and out of the snare of 
temptation has emerged into the blessedness that belongs to 
the pure in heart. But because absolute purity is beyond 
the attainment of mortal men, religion lies chiefly along the 
road, in the yearning and aspiring life, that is not content 
with any compromise with evil, but struggles ever on and on 

1 Cf. W. James, Varieties of Religious Experience, p. 51: "When all is 
said and done, we are in the end absolutely dependent on the universe; and 
into sacrifices and surrenders of some sort, deliberately looked at and ac- 
cepted, we are drawn and pressed as into our only permanent positions of 
repose. Now in those states of mind which fall short of religion, the surren- 
der is submitted to as an imposition of necessity, and the sacrifice is under- 
gone at the very best without complaint. In the religious life, on the con- 
trary, surrender and sacrifice are positively espoused; even unnecessary 
givings up are added in order that happiness may increase. Religion thus 
makes easy and felicitous what in any case is necessary." 



SACRIFICE AND SIN 161 

toward perfection. From the first conception of an objective 
duty that has authority over his subjective caprices and 
personal desires, a duty grudgingly and heavily obeyed, 
religion develops into an ardent pursuit of righteousness, a 
happy and whole-hearted dedication to an ideal of life. 

The saints and the great religious teachers have been 
those who have loved purity and seen the beauty of holiness. 
In the Psalms, in the teachings of Jesus, in the letters of 
Paul, we have the classic expressions of delight in the law of 
righteousness. Renunciation, instead of being a grim neces- 
sity, is welcomed with open arms; self-denial is no longer a 
yoke and a burden, to be borne because there is no way of 
escape, it has become the deepest desire of the heart. Such 
is the temper of the deeply religious man : he loves Duty not 
only because it is the only path to sustained happiness, but 
for its own glorious sake. He says, — 

"I give nothing as duties, 
What others give as duties I give as living impulses." 

The ultimate goal of the religious life — of any worthy 
life — is indeed service, achievement; but achievement un- 
spotted and unhampered by selfishness, by sensuality, by 
worldliness and sin. All indolence and frivolity, all coarse- 
ness and dissipation, all gluttony and immoderation and 
drunkenness and lust, are its eternal enemies. From the 
clutch of these passions man climbs toward the heights 
where he shall no longer hear the seductive voice of tempta- 
tion, where his will shall be in harmony with the will of God, 
the will which the ideal of his life prescribes. Between these 
two poles of the animal life and the ideal life lies his pilgrim's 
progress; from the world of unchecked inclination he jour- 
neys over a long and toilsome road, with much effort and 
travail of spirit, to the spiritual world, which is the world of 
perfected human nature. 



162 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

The doctrine of Original Sin 

To the great idealists sin has often appeared not merely 
as an individual matter but as a universal inheritance and 
burden; the Hebrew prophets, for example, were sweeping 
in their denunciation of the general wickedness of men. 
That this omnipresent wickedness dated back to the first 
man and was due to his original fall from innocence, came 
to be a popularly accepted belief. We find it in some of the 
Apocryphal writings that preceded the Christian era; and 
Paul fitted it into his conglomerate theological structure. 
"As through one man sin entered into the world, and death 
through sin, and so death passed unto all men, for that all 
sinned — as through the one man's disobedience the many 
were made sinners, even so through the obedience of the One 
shall the many be made righteous." Such an assertion of 
universal depravity was plausible in that age, when the old 
virtues were tottering and the new had only begun to appear. 
To Paul it was a matter of plain observation: "Jews and 
Greeks — they are all under sin; as it is written, there is 
none righteous, no, not one." On himself the curse equally 
rested — "I delight, in my heart, in the law of God; but I 
see a different law in my body, warring against the law of 
my mind, and bringing me into captivity under the law of 
sin which is in my body." Under this curse "the whole crea- 
tion groaneth and travailleth till now." l 

To Paul the important matter was the fact of universal 
sinfulness and the need of salvation; Adam was useful 
rhetorically, to contrast with Christ — the first sinner with 
the first sinless man. But the Christian fathers, with their 
hunger for theoretical precision, crystallized his hints into 
a hard-and-fast doctrine of Original Sin. Adam's sin has 
demoralized the race; his guilt is transmitted to us all, and 

1 Rom. 5: 12-19; 3: 9-23; 7: 14-25; 8: 22. 



SACRIFICE AND SIN 163 

we are hopelessly entangled unless the supernatural grace 
of Christ is accepted. St. Augustine, in particular, con- 
verted in middle life after a youth whose wildness he after- 
ward, by a natural psychological tendency, exaggerated into 
unrelieved blackness, saddled upon the Church the convic- 
tion of man's natural depravity. 1 

But as times grew gentler and men more humane, this 
gloomy view of human nature was bound to give way. Par- 
ticularly in America, with its unbounded hopes and its 
freedom from old-world problems, the sense of the natural 
goodness of man, already vigorously preached by the eight- 
eenth century romanticists, became dominant; and the offi- 
cial pessimistic doctrine of the Church appeared a sad and 
chilling untruth. " The progress of society," said Channing, 
"is retarded by nothing more than by the low views which 
its leaders are accustomed to take of human nature." "It is 
a duty to estimate highly the nature which God has given. 
It should be regarded with reverence, rather than con- 
tempt." 2 And Emerson cried out impatiently to his Divinity 
School listeners, " None belie veth in the soul of man, but 
only in some man or person old and departed." 

To the modern man there is evidently truth on both sides 
of the controversy. Man is neither inherently bad nor in- 
herently good. No impulse or instinct is in itself evil; but 
any may lead to evil if undisciplined and unrestrained. We 
do inherit tendencies that bring pain and wrong and pre- 
mature death; from the burden of these passions men have 
universally longed to be delivered. We do start handicapped 

1 See G. F. Wiggers, Historical Presentation of Avgusiinism from the 
Original Sources; F. R. Tennant, Sources of the Doctrine of the Fall and 
Original Sin; Jonathan Edwards, The Doctrine of Original Sin Defended; 
Jeremy Taylor, Scripture Doctrine of Original Sin. For a modern interpre- 
tation of the doctrine see J. Royce, Problem of Christianity, vol. I, chap. in. 
For a modern criticism, see Edmond Holmes, In Defence of What Might Be, 
chap, n ; J. J. Hall, Evolution and the Fall; and the literature of Eugenics. 

2 Mem. i, 288. 



164 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

and hampered by this common human inheritance; we are 
all potentially sinful before our first sinful act, there is in us 
a predisposition to evil. The doctrine of the Fall puts into 
the form of a single historical incident what is really a gen- 
eral truth about human nature — the fact that its present 
state does not correspond to its real estate. Not only the 
Hebrews, with their unusually acute consciousness of short- 
coming or imperfection, but many other races, have postu- 
lated a golden age in the past wherein this discordance did 
not exist. Anthropology discredits such an idea; there has 
not been any general degeneration. But universally, prac- 
tice does not correspond to ideal. A truer formulation of the 
fact which the doctrine of the Fall has sought to explain 
would be to say that man has not fallen, he has never risen 
to his potentialities, or found the life of happiness and power 
that might be his. 

But if there is weakness and imperfection in us all, there 
is also much good in us all; any normal child, if rightly 
trained, and subjected to just the right influences, could 
become a saint. If some seem so hopelessly fallen as to need 
supernatural grace, it is for lack of the proper influences at 
the right time. Environment is more responsible than 
heredity. Nor need we trouble ourselves about predestina- 
tion and election. Some undoubtedly start better off than 
others; modern science is showing why, and pointing the way 
toward an ultimate improvement. In this matter we have 
more to learn from eugenics than from theology. We shall 
always have to fight against the evil tendencies inseparable 
from human nature; but proper breeding and training of 
the human species can remove from the situation most of its 
hopeless aspects. The doctrine of the inevitable sinfulness 
of man has had its day. 

Historical: L. R. Farnell, Evolution of Religion, chap. in. F. B. 
Jevons, Sacrifice (in Introduction to the Study of Comparative Reli- 



SACRIFICE AND SIN 165 

gion). W. R. Smith, Religion of the Semites, lectures vi-xi. P.V.N. 
Myers, History as Past Ethics, chap. xin. C. H. Toy, Judaism 
and Christianity, chap. iv. A. Lang, Custom and Myth, pp. 105-20. 
American Journal of Theology, vol. 4, p. 257. 

Traditionalistic: O. A. Curtis, The Christian Faith, chaps, xiv- 
xv. W. N. Clarke, Outline of Christian Theology, pt. in. C. A. 
Beckwith, Realities of Christian Theology, chap. v. 

Modern: W. E. Orchard, Modern Theories of Sin. E. S. Ames, 
Psychology of Religious Experience, chap. vn. G. B. Cutten, Psy- 
chological Phenomena of Christianity, chap. xi. F. J. Peabody, 
Jesus Christ and the Christian Character, chaps, iii-iv. G. A. Coe, 
Religion of a Mature Mind, chap. xn. G. Santayana, Reason in 
Religion, chaps, x-xi. J. Royce, Problem of Christianity, vol. i, 
chaps, in, v. J. Martineau, Studies in Christianity, pp. 466-77. 
W. de W. Hyde, Sin and its Forgiveness. C. C. Everett, Theism and 
the Christian Faith, chaps, xxi-xxn. F. R. Tennant, Concept of 
Sin. R. Mackintosh, Christianity and Sin. Schaff-Herzog Encyc- 
lopedia, arts. Sin, Sacrifice. Harvard Theological Review, vol. 5, 
p. 121. 



CHAPTER XI 

SALVATION, CONVERSION, AND ATONEMENT 

What is the meaning of salvation? 

Ideally, there ought to be no need of salvation for men; 
education and eugenics should breed a race of men adapted 
to their environment and able to live in harmony and inner 
peace. This, however, is but a remote ideal; actually, most 
men have consciously failed in adjustment somewhere, and 
felt the need of salvation. Most men at one time or other 
have cried out as Paul did, " To will is present with me, but 
to do that which is good is not. . . . Wretched man that I am, 
who shall deliver me from this body of death ! " To the felt 
need of deliverance from sin there has generally been added 
the dread of the punishment of sin, the fear of future retri- 
bution. To be saved meant to the early Christian propa- 
gandists the promise of admittance to the Messianic King- 
dom shortly to be set up by Christ; to the modern evangelist 
it means escape from the torments of hell and the hope of 
sharing the delights of heaven. But this aspect of salvation 
need not concern us here ; x it has varied with the differing 
conceptions of God and the future life, and has necessarily 
been a matter of speculation or faith rather than of actual 
experience. What we have to consider is rather the means of 
escape from sin here and now; a matter as to which practi- 
cally the whole human race are in the same case, and which 
can be discussed independently of theological or eschato- 
logical dogmas. 

There is a modern tendency to discard the terms "salva- 
1 The question of the future life will be discussed in chap. xxiv. 



SALVATION, CONVERSION, AND ATONEMENT 167 

tion," "conversion," "regeneration," and the like, because 
they have become colored for most of us by theological pre- 
suppositions and often applied to acts and forms which have 
no real spiritual value. Baptism, partaking of the wine and 
bread, confession, joining the church, profession of belief, — 
such outward acts are symbolical and suggestive, but have 
no direct intrinsic efficacy. All assumption by any church of 
power to save men or to pronounce them saved, except as 
they actually experience an inward change, is sheer inso- 
lence. Nor can we in these days hold that only Christians 
have been saved — a mere handful out of the myriads of 
men and women who have peopled the earth. Salvation, de- 
liverance from sin, is open to all. Jew and Christian, Brah- 
man and Buddhist, have felt alike the need of it; and by all 
the great faiths the way of salvation has in some measure 
been found : in some measure — for there are degrees of 
salvation. We can no longer separate men into sheep and 
goats, the saved and the lost; moral differences are infi- 
nitely numerous, and no man is wholly good or bad. There 
are indeed cases of abrupt transition from great sinfulaess to 
purity; but more often salvation has to be worked out grad- 
ually through years of effort and failure. 1 

Yet, if it is true that salvation has come in greater or lesser 
degree to multitudes of men of all faiths, it is also true that 
it has come in most striking measure through Christ. No 
other power ever let loose in the world has accomplished 
nearly so much in freeing men from the bondage of sin as the 
power of his life and death. The great highroad of deliver- 

1 Cf. James, Varieties, pp. 238-39: "The real witness of the spirit to the 
'second birth' is to be found only in the disposition of the genuine child of 
God, the permanently patient heart, the love of self eradicated. And this, 
it has to be admitted, is also found in those who pass no crisis, and may even 
be found outside of Christianity altogether. . . . No chasm exists between 
the orders of human excellence, but here as elsewhere nature shows contin- 
uous differences, and generation and regeneration are matters of degree." 



168 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

ance for sin-ridden men is that of overcoming evil with good; 
a great love, a great loyalty, can banish temptations against 
which a direct struggle is futile. So a spiritual union with 
Christ has for millions wrought that transformation of char- 
acter which we call regeneration; and the surest way to save 
men who have sunk far into sin has proved to be, after win- 
ning their will to repent, to bring them to Christ. 

What is the meaning and value of conversion? 

When a man, after a life of indifference to spiritual values, 
is suddenly saved from such religious apathy, roused to a 
new set of interests, delivered from the power of sin — and 
therefore from its consequences, natural or supernatural — 
we call him converted. "Conversion" means, literally, a 
"turning round"; the term is usually restricted to cases of a 
turning from a lower to a higher level of life. 1 Conversion is 
not by any means always accompanied by extremes of nerv- 
ous excitement; on the contrary, the process is usually quiet 
enough in outward manifestation. It is by no means always 
abrupt; rather, it may be so gradual as to have no special 
significant moments to mark the change of heart. There are 
all sorts of types, from that of the convert who is thrown into 
unconsciousness by the stress of battling emotions to that of 
the man who, though truly religious, is conscious of no con- 
version at all, but seems to have always cared for the best 

1 Starbuck defines it as follows (p. 156) : " Conversion is suddenly for- 
saking the lower for the higher self. In terms of the neural basis of con- 
sciousness, it is the inhibition of lower channels of nervous discharge 
through the establishment of higher connections and the identification of 
the ego with the new activities." James defines it (p. 189) as, "The process, 
gradual or sudden, by which a self hitherto divided, and consciously wrong, 
inferior, and unhappy, becomes unified, and consciously right, superior, and 
happy, in consequence of its firmer hold upon religious realities." And 
(p. 196), "To say that a man is 'converted' means that religious ideas, 
previously peripheral in his consciousness, now take a central place, and 
that religious aims form the habitual centre of his energy." 



SALVATION, CONVERSION, AND ATONEMENT 169 

things. There is not necessarily any sharp line between the 
converted and the unconverted; if a child is rightly trained, 
and grows up into the Christian life, he will need no turning- 
round. Only those who have become addicted to wrong 
habits, who have gone so far astray that they have, for the 
time, lost the power or inclination to follow virtue, need 
such a right-about-face, such a forcible shaking out of their 
old ruts and turning to a new direction. 

Yet conversion has played a large part in Christianity, 
and rightly so. For to most of us, however outwardly blame- 
less our lives have been, there comes at some time or other 
the vision of a higher spiritual level on which we might live; 
and even with the best of training the average child is natu- 
rally self -centered and but slightly, if at all, religious. There 
comes commonly a moment when the youth or maiden real- 
izes as never before the meaning of life and its duties, and 
turns from a hitherto half-unconscious selfishness to a con- 
scious devotion to the duties which love and religion demand. 
Professor Starbuck, who, in his valuable Psychology of Reli- 
gion, has collected many statistics of the various types of 
conversion, is decided in his affirmation that it is a normal 
accompaniment of adolescence. The period of the teens is 
naturally a time of profound mental upheaval, the most 
critical period of life, when the youth, yet plastic, is forming 
his character and choosing his ideals. Many primitive reli- 
gions took advantage of this transition period to awaken the 
dormant instincts of the young and enlist their loyalty; the 
Christian Church should certainly aim to reach and influence 
them at that susceptible age. 1 It is by no means true that 
children are radically and inevitably sinful until a super- 

1 "The Church," says Starbuck, "takes the adolescent tendencies and 
builds upon them; it sees that the essential thing in adolescent growth is 
bringing the person out of childhood into the new life. ... It accordingly 
brings those means to bear which will intensify the normal tendencies. It 
shortens up the period of storm and stress." 



170 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

natural grace has transformed them; in normal cases they 
should grow imperceptibly into a spontaneous religious life. 
But that religious life can usually, at the right moments, be 
greatly stimulated by appropriate suggestion, in forms vary- 
ing with the individual need. 

To those who have passed through such a quickening and 
illuminating experience, it naturally seems important that 
others should feel it also. And so some Christian churches — 
notably the Methodist — have proclaimed a process of this 
sort necessary and have refused their fellowship to those 
who cannot profess to have undergone it. Their methods of 
fostering the experience have become stereotyped; its partic- 
ular form in a given church is largely determined by imita- 
tion or suggestion. This specific type of experience is then 
expected of all who are to belong to that church; and every 
one in that circle who yearns at all toward religion feels in 
duty bound to go through this experience, or to persuade 
himself that he has gone through it. It is an interesting side- 
light on human suggestibility, this readiness with which a 
certain measure of conformity is attained, in experiences 
which appear so individual and spontaneous. But it is gen- 
erally to be noted that an elaborate and skillful technique 
has been employed to produce precisely such manifestations; 
and they usually occur under the influence of contagion. 
The danger is, of course, that it degenerate into a perfunc- 
tory and mechanical ceremony with the great numbers who 
are not mentally ready for just that type of experience. But 
we must never forget that the form without the spirit is 
worthless; conversion is not actual unless there is a real 
change of attitude, a new dedication of the heart, once 
wavering or indifferent, to the religious life. 

We are accustomed, perhaps, to associate conversion with 
revivalistic orgies, with visions and voices, tears and exhor- 
tations, and intense emotional stress. In fact, there has been 



SALVATION, CONVERSION, AND ATONEMENT 171 

much of the abnormal, much of the irrational and disgusting, 
connected with Christian evangelism. But we should not 
despise methods, however repellent to our sensibilities, that 
have been efficacious in turning men from sensuality or self- 
ishness to a godly life. The emotional outflows — shoutings 
and gesticulations, jerkings, hallelujahs, jumpings up and 
down, and the like — are natural enough. To overcome deep- 
rooted habits of wrongdoing and direct a life into new chan- 
nels may well involve much stress of spirit, be accompanied 
by deep emotions, and, in those of the proper temperament, 
by "automatisms" of various sorts — blinding flashes, 
luminous figures, voices, and kindred phenomena. Yet it is 
unfortunate that such abnormal experiences, experiences not 
accessible to all men, and not always of actual spiritual bene- 
fit, should ever have been deemed an essential mark of the 
Christian life. Christ certainly never required them; all that 
lie demanded was, "Take up your cross and follow me." 
Many of the Christian churches have never encouraged 
cataclysmic conversion, but have instead elaborated a grad- 
ual process of religious education. But the apostle Paul and 
St. Augustine, perhaps the two men who had the greatest 
influence in controlling the direction of development of 
Christianity, were both men of psychopathic temperament, 
subject to these violent experiences; it is largely due to 
that fact that catastrophic conversion has seemed to some 
churches a necessary prelude to the Christian life. 

From another point of view Christian evangelism has been 
often disparaged, namely, because its fruits are held to be 
but transitory, a mere ephemeral burst of emotion that 
when it ebbs leaves a man no better than before. But very 
many cases fall within the observation of any student of 
these phenomena in which the spiritual level has been per- 
manently and strikingly raised as a result of the conversion 
experience. Backsliders there will be; and few can hope to 



172 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

retain through a long succession of common days the vision 
of their supreme moments. It is impossible to keep the glam- 
our and the glow that go with "falling in love" through the 
humdrum years of married life; yet the radiance of that glo- 
rious period may bind the two into an eternal union. So the 
great moments when the soul passionately espouses the reli- 
gious life should, and often do, effect a permanent raising of 
the level of the whole subsequent life. And any one who has 
once known the joy and peace of the Christian spirit, even if 
for a few days or hours only, can never wholly forget that 
blessed time, and is forever after more receptive to religious 
pleading than one who has never, even for a moment, caught 
the vision of that better Way. 

Space is lacking for a description of the very various types 
of the conversion experience. But one great distinction we 
must note. William James has familiarized us with this 
distinction, between Volitional Conversion, as he termed it, 
and Conversion by Self-Surrender. The former type is that 
of those who attain the new level of life by an agony of 
struggle and sweat and constantly renewed consecration, 
who need to retain the militant attitude toward sin. The 
latter type includes those who best attain the higher life by 
surrendering themselves at the critical moment to its power. 
A profound sense of impotence and despair is followed 
abruptly, in these cases, by a wave of joy and a sense of vic- 
tory. The prior discouragement is often intensified by the 
lurid preaching of the evangelist, the doctrinal obsession of 
the natural sinfulness and helplessness of human nature, and 
the fear of impending punishment; when the final release 
comes, the relaxation of pressure and conviction of salvation 
produces by contrast a keen joy; the self is no longer divided, 
the struggle is over. 1 This type of mental process produces 

1 This second type of conversion will be further discussed, in the follow- 
ing chapter, in connection with the inquiry into the nature of faith. See 
pp. 180-86. 



SALVATION, CONVERSION, AND ATONEMENT 173 

obviously the most striking cases; and some Christian bodies 
have held it to be the only genuine form of conversion. But, 
after all, what the particular type of conversion is, matters 
little; it is only a question of the most efficacious means to 
an end. The ultimately important thing is not how a man is 
converted, but what he is converted to. 1 

There are dangers in the practice of evangelism. There is 
the danger of encouraging a mere emotionalism, divorced 
from sane and accurate thinking; and of fostering erroneous 
doctrines through their alliance with such stimulating emo- 
tions. There is the danger of making the conversion experi- 
ence an end in itself, producing little fruit in an altered life. 
There is the danger of making religion appear something 
apart from normal life, something violent and absurd and 
repugnant to people of refinement and common sense. There 
is the danger of stereotyping the conversion experience till 
the converts go through it perfunctorily, like so many sheep, 
as a necessary doorway to the church, without its having a 
vital meaning to them or being a genuine and organic part 
of their own life. There is the danger of stimulating an ab- 
normal craving for excitement, which may satisfy itself upon 
a later occasion in some disastrous way. There is the danger 
of neglecting, through reliance upon conversion, the normal 
processes of religious education. Nevertheless, properly 

1 Cf. Coe, p. 144: "The ultimate test of religious values is nothing psy- 
chological, nothing definable in terms of how it happens, but something 
ethical, definable only in terms of what is attained" And Bishop McCon- 
nell (in Constructive Quarterly, vol. 1, pp. 135-36) : "We no longer lay stress 
upon incidental and accidental features in religious experience. . . . The 
essential is the new life itself, and the emphasis should be on the features 
which seem to make for larger life in the most natural and normal fashion. 
. . . All these experiences are subject to psychological law. The problem in 
Christian life is to bring the psychological movement under moral law, to 
make the emotional reaction come out of moral purpose and lead to the 
moral control of the will." Both of these writers, it may be noted, are prom- 
inent living Methodist ministers, one a professor in a leading theological 
school, the other a bishop of the church. 



174 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

controlled and directed, the practice of abrupt conversion 
may be of enormous value; because it has been misunder- 
stood and abused, we need by no means utterly discard it. 1 

The doctrine of the Atonement 

Through Christ men were saved; that was the great fact 
that illuminated the early Christian preaching. The old 
sacrificial systems were done away with; priests and burnt 
offerings were finally and forever displaced by the One 
Saviour. The good news consisted largely in the relief from 
former burdens. But there was also the positive gospel: 
somehow by Christ's life or sacrificial death the power of 
sin had been broken, and the New Life had been opened 
up to men. Redemption was an actual experience — which 
merged into a greater hope. But what was the objective side 
to this subjective fact? How were men saved through 
Christ? Paul and the earliest Christian teachers, being al- 
most exclusively practical in their interests, left the matter 
open; there is no definite theory of redemption or atonement 
in the Bible. But the later theologians found in the rhetoric 
of these earliest preachers many a suggestion and metaphor 
that served as scriptural basis for their various theories. 

(1) The earliest theory to obtain wide currency was that 
of a price paid to the Devil. That the power of the Evil One 
had been broken was clear; and the words "redeem," "ran- 
som," etc., appear frequently in the primitive teaching. 2 
Irenseus and Origen developed, with the relentless logic of 
the theologian, the apparent implications of these terms. 
Satan had won, by the successful temptation of Adam, a 
right to the souls of men; he held them as his captives. Over 
Christ, however, because of his sinlessness, he had no power; 

1 Some of the theological inferences drawn from the conversion experi- 
ence will be discussed below, on pp. 322-25. 

2 Cf. Matt. 20:28. Mark 10:45. Titus, 2:14. 1 Pet. 1:18. Col. 2:15. 
Heb. 2:14-15. 



SALVATION, CONVERSION, AND ATONEMENT 175 

and by causing him to be put to death he made himself in 
turn liable to a penalty, and had to forfeit his claim over 
his former prisoners. Christ's death was, then, a price paid 
for the souls of men; the transaction was variously thought 
of as a bargain, or as a stratagem; at any rate, the Devil was 
outwitted and spoiled of his prey. Variant forms of this 
ransom- theory were formulated by St. Jerome, St. Augus- 
tine, St. Bernard, and other pillars of the church; it has not 
yet wholly faded from Christian thought. 

(2) This dualism, however, this struggle between God 
and Devil for the souls of men, was repugnant to many 
Christians; and the learned doctor Anselm, in answer to his 
famous question, Cur Deus homo ? propounded the legal the- 
ory. According to this, the Devil had no rights which God 
was bound to respect. But the guilt of sin had to be some- 
how atoned for to maintain God's honor and satisfy his 
sense of justice. Christ offered himself, to bear man's pun- 
ishment in his stead; God accepted the substitution; man 
can therefore go free. The theory was worked out by 
Thomas Aquinas, and became the dominant Christian con- 
ception. It is embodied by Milton in the lines, — 

"Man, . . . losing all, 
To expiate his treason hath naught left, 
But, to destruction sacred and devote, 
He with his whole posterity must die; — 
Die he or Justice must; unless for him 
Some other, able, and as willing, pay 
The rigid satisfaction, death for death." 

This theory, however, with its picture of God as the 
stern and relentless judge, was also opposed from the begin- 
ning; Socinus once for all showed the weakness of its judicial 
fictions, and it has been pretty widely abandoned by the 
Church as immoral. That God should insist upon " justice," 
i.e., upon a full measure of punishment for every sin, and 
be unable or unwilling simply to forgive and forget wrong- 



176 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

doing, — which is the result of the instincts and impulses with 
which men are endowed, and is usually wretched enough in 
itself, without added punishment, — has to the sympathetic 
and sensitive seemed incredible. That prior to Christ's suf- 
fering he should have damned poor ignorant men to tor- 
ments in hell, and should still exact that frightful penalty of 
them except as they realize their situation and consciously 
accept Christ's vicarious sacrifice, is a doctrine too awful for 
the modern taste. The revenge-conception of punishment 
has been abandoned in inter-human relations; and the hu- 
maner spirit of the times demands an equally humane God. 
We see too clearly the causes of sin; we pity the sinner and 
seek to reform him; if we imprison him it is only to restrain 
him from further wrongdoing, to bring better influences to 
bear upon him, and to deter others from similar folly. Any 
punishment beyond what is necessary for these ends is sheer 
cruelty. Moreover, if God's relations to men are to be con- 
ceived in terms of criminal law, if we must at all costs have 
justice, is it justice to punish myriads of men for Adam's sin 
— even granting that sin to be far more heinous than it 
would naturally appear? And what sort of justice is it that 
could be satisfied with the punishing of one innocent man 
and the free pardon of myriads of guilty men? The theory 
seems a remnant of the ancient idea that the gods need to be 
placated; but by the side of the pagan gods, who were con- 
tent with humble offerings of flesh and fruit, the Christian 
God, demanding the suffering and death of his own Son, 
appears a monster of cruelty. 

(3) As far back as Abelard, in the twelfth century, the 
"moral influence theory" had its exponents; and it has 
been gradually, if slowly, winning its way in the Church. 1 

1 Cf. for a modern expression of it, Sabatier, pp. 94-95: "The redemp- 
tive element is to be found, not in the death of Christ, but in the power and 
brilliancy of his religious consciousness, to the benefits of which we are 



SALVATION, CONVERSION, AND ATONEMENT 177 

According to it, the power of the death of Christ lay in its 
awakening in men an answering love powerful enough to 
conquer their sinfulness. That sacrifice was necessary, not 
to pay the Devil or to placate God; it was psychologically 
necessary, to stir men's hearts and arouse their latent pow- 
ers. Christ's life was saving; if his death was necessary, it 
was as a capstone and climax to his life of sacrifice. His- 
torically, his teaching failed to win many adherents; the 
uttermost sacrifice was needed. And that death on the cross 
actually proved the saving fact. By it, not by his sinless 
life, was Paul impressed; it was the preaching of the cross 
that converted, that saved, the world. 

Without pausing to note any of the other, less-known the- 
ories, we may assert that in this "moral" theory lies what- 
ever truth there is in the doctrine of the Atonement. Good 
men do have to atone for the sins of bad men; if it had not 
been for the wickedness of men, Christ, our type of spiritual 
hero, would not have had to suffer and die. That widespread 
human wickedness cost him dear; he paid the full price; and 
he is the fitting type of the vicariousness of so much of 
human suffering. Moreover, that suffering, that supreme 
example of self-sacrificing love, has had a great redeeming 
power, breaking down men's resistance and winning them 
to God. The individual is often unable to cure his own per- 
verted will; it is the devoted love of others, such love as is 
typified in Christ, that softens the hard heart and rescues 
men from the power of sin. "It is only suffering love that 
avails to bring back the prodigal sons; and only as parents 

admitted through faith, and in which we find peace, joy, and salvation. 
Christ suffered for us only ... as a result of human solidarity, from the 
painful consequences of sins in which he had no personal part. . . . His 
death is not the cause of an objective atonement made before God for sin, 
but the historical means of a subjective atonement which is effected in the 
human consciousness through faith, by the death of the old man and the 
birth of the new." 



178 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

have it for their children, pastors for their people, friends for 
their friends, can they be real soul- winners." x It is the spirit 
of Christ, the ministry of love and self-sacrifice, that is 
slowly lifting men upward; that event on Calvary, nineteen 
hundred years ago, symbolizes this age-long process; the 
doctrine that has crystallized round it expresses in concrete 
and tangible form a profound and pathetic truth. 

But there is always the danger of so preaching this doc- 
trine as to relax rather than quicken men's efforts; contented 
reliance upon Christ's sacrifice has led many a Christian to 
forget that it is only by following Christ, by repeating in his 
own experience Christ's sacrifice and victory, that he can 
share the great reward. Yet this was what Paul meant; re- 
demption was to him not an outward transaction but an 
inward transformation. To Paul's experience Christianity 
must cling fast. We must let Christ's sacrifice touch us, in- 
clude us, destroy our desire for sin; we must catch the spirit 
of atoning love and reenact the great Atonement, in our 
humble way, in our own lives. 

Salvation: H. Hoffding, Philosophy of Religion, pp. 41-57. J. V. 
Morgan, ed., Theology at the Dawn of the Twentieth Century, pp. 
159-222. R. J. Campbell, New Theology, chap. xn. M. Arnold, 
St. Paul and Protestantism. 

Conversion: W. James, Varieties of Religious Experience, chaps. 
ix, x. E. D. Starbuek, Psychology of Religion. G. A. Coe, Spiritual 
Life, chaps, i-iii. G. B. Cutten, Psychological Phenomena of Chris- 
tianity, chap, xviii. E. S. Ames, Psychology of Religious Experience, 
pt. in. A. W. Moore, Rational Basis of Orthodoxy, chaps, xi-xii. 
H. Begbie, Twice-Born Men. American Journal of Psychology, vol. 
7, p. 309. 

The Atonement: Morgan, ed., op. cit., pp. 261-99. Various au- 
thors, The Atonement in Modern Religious Thought (Whitaker, 
1901). Foundations, chap. vi. C. A. Dinsmore, Atonement in Lit- 
erature and Life. A. Sabatier, Doctrine of the Atonement and its 

1 H. W. Pinkham, in Theology at the Dawn of the Twentieth Century, 
p. 298. 



SALVATION, CONVERSION, AND ATONEMENT 179 

Historical Evolution. R. C. Moberly, Atonement and Personality. 
J. Royce, Problem of Christianity, vol. i, lects. vi-vii. B. P. Bowne, 
Studies in Christianity, chap. n. R. J. Campbell, New Theology, 
chaps, viii, ix, x, xii. Moore, op. cit., chap. x. J. Caird, Funda- 
mental Ideas of Christianity, chaps, xvi-xviii. Biblical World, 
vol. 42, p. 67. 



CHAPTER XII 

FAITH AND PRAYER 

If the outward source of salvation, for Paul and the many 
Christians who have followed in his steps, was Christ, the 
inward and cooperating factor, equally necessary, was 
Faith. "By faith are ye saved," the great apostle taught his 
converts; and there is no directer way to grasp the meaning 
of this term than through a study of the experience that we 
call " Salvation by Faith." Just as the doctrine of the Atone- 
ment resulted from an attempt to explain the ultimate 
causes and conditions of this experience, so the Pauline- 
Lutheran dogma of Justification and Sanctification by Faith 
was an interpretation of the event itself in terms of the then 
current theological and psychological conceptions. Our aim 
should be, not to accept as inerrant and unalterable these 
speculations of a former day, but to revert to the personal 
religious experiences which gave birth to them and to inter- 
pret those indubitable and significant facts in terms of our 
modern scientific knowledge. 

What is the nature and value of faith? 

Paul is the type of earnest, aspiring man for whom a sensi- 
tive conscience and a keen sense of sin are not enough to 
overcome temptation ; they need to be reinforced by a great 
loyalty and a new assurance. The long struggle to live up to 
outward standards left him discouraged and lacking in in- 
ward power; what he needed, and found, was an influx of 
new life, to lift him to a higher plane. It was the getting of a 
"new man"; it was "the spirit of life in Christ Jesus" that 



FAITH AND PRAYER 181 

"freed" him "from the law of sin and death." l His re- 
demption from inner discord had come, with an intense emo- 
tional crisis, when he yielded his heart to the Christ whose 
followers he had been persecuting. So for him always, to be 
saved — made safe from falling — required the giving of the 
heart to Christ. If a man was willing to die, as it were, with 
Christ, to his former lusts and passions, and to lay hold of 
the Christ-life, or, in Paul's language, let Christ live in him, 
Christ's victory over sin might be his also. 

What Paul thereafter opposed (and what should always 
be contrasted with salvation by faith) was not salvation by 
good conduct, but salvation by mere external compliances. 
The surrender of heart and will to Christ, which he de- 
manded, involved purity of life, involved a flat abandon- 
ment of all the old lusts; good conduct was its outcome and 
test — "faith without works is dead." The secret of success 
was the substitution of the positive forces of loyalty and 
optimism for the paralyzing sense of impotence and struggle; 
the mind was henceforth to be centered on Christ and the 
old life forgotten. In the old endeavor to fulfil a casuistic 
list of rules there had been no inspiration, but a perpetual 
realization of failure; the attainment of spirituality seemed 
hopelessly far off. But with the new hope attainment be- 
came possible at a bound. So to many another it has hap- 
pened that godliness has been best won, at a certain critical 
point, by grasping the higher life through the imagination, 
and claiming it, though yet unrealized, as an actual posses- 
sion; the joyous expectancy of success turning the scales in 
favor of the new habits. 2 

1 Rom. 8: 2. 

2 The value of the method, as preached, in varying theological terms, by 
so many followers of Paul, in bringing a new force of hope into a life, is well 
illustrated by this extract from one of John Wesley's sermons: "You think, 
I must first be or do thus or thus [to be saved]. Then you are seeking it 
by works unto this day. If you seek it by faith, you may expect it as you 



182 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

The psychology of the situation would be explained to-day 
somewhat as follows: The unhappy sinner, in many cases, 
has the power to live aright locked up in his heart, but un- 
able to get control of him because it is blocked by the realiza- 
tion of his sinfulness; the formation of new habits is inter- 
fered with by his very concentration of thought upon his 
previous failures. Suddenly he is told that he need not think 
of his temptations any longer, that he has but to let go, yield 
himself to some one who is his Saviour, or to the Holy Spirit 
in himself, and the power of right living will be his, he will be 
saved. The suggestion of the possession of power is potent 
enough to make the power actually sufficient. The mind is 
fixed upon the goal instead of upon the obstacles, is freed 
from the demoralization that comes from a remembrance of 
past weakness, and lives in the atmosphere of attainment. 1 

That this experience was not understood, that it was 
deemed miraculous and materialized into an outward trans- 
action, wherein God, that his justice and mercy might both 
be satisfied, imputed the sinlessness of Christ to whosoever 
should accept his offer of forgiveness, has not wholly under- 
mined its efficacy as a vital means of deliverance from sin. 
The interpretation put upon it is of small importance com- 
pared with the fact of its existence. While men are prone to 
sensuality and selfishness, to inner discord and unhappiness, 

are; then expect it now. It is of importance to observe that there is an in- 
separable connection between these three points: expect it by faith, expect 
it as you are, and expect it now." 

1 Cf. J. H. Leuba, in American Journal of Religions Psychology, vol. 1, 
p. 74: Faith "means greater suggestibility to the circle of ideas the subject 
is intent upon realizing, and deliverance, if not from the presence, at least 
from the power, of those other tendential ideas against which he has been 
struggling." 

William James's memorable description of the salvation-by-faith experi- 
ence may be found in his Varieties of Religious Experience, p. 205 ff. His 
particular contribution lay in pointing out the important role played by the 
subconscious life in producing these experiences of abrupt and passive sal- 
vation. 



FAITH AND PRAYER 183 

they will need the help of outward influences to turn them to 
the right life; and theology, though naturally, before the 
very recent development of the science of psychology, far 
astray in its comprehension of the phenomenon, has in its 
blind fashion clung hold of this valuable method of Salvation 
by Faith, and through it brought to many purity and peace. 

The true importance of this method, however, has been 
greatly obscured by its veil of prescientific conceptions; and 
we are only to-day, with our better understanding of its 
essential nature, beginning to appreciate what can be ac- 
complished by it for health of mind, even for health of body. 
More or less gropingly various sects of recent growth are 
making use of it — "Mind-Cure," "Faith-Cure/' "New 
Thought," "Christian Science." In varying phraseology, 
and with widely different theoretical explanations, by all of 
these cults the same fundamental psychological truth is 
exemplified and made of practical service. 

But what should already be clear is, that this faith, which 
is so efficacious in spiritual, and even in physical hygiene, is 
something very different from, and much more important 
than, an assent to doctrines, i.e., to statements concerning 
supposed historical or cosmological facts. Faith, in its good 
sense, is not credulity; it is not rightly opposed to free in- 
quiry, to the historical spirit, or to intellectual conscien- 
tiousness. An acceptance of beliefs of any sort has never 
saved any one's soul; " it is not on any estimate of evidence, 
correct or incorrect, that our true holiness can depend." We 
cannot too earnestly oppose all demands for acceptance of 
doctrines which would not of their own obvious reasona- 
bleness command assent. Such a "virtue" would really be 
a vice; and if Faith could only be taken to mean that, it 
would be our duty to refuse it. 1 

1 Cf. T. H. Green, sermon on Faith : "If faith were really belief in the oc- 
currence of certain miraculous events upon transmitted evidence of the 



184 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

There are, indeed, other legitimate uses of the term be- 
sides that which we are considering. It may be used in the 
sense of trust in a person and what that person says. There 
are those whose vision is deeper than ours; it is often neces- 
sary and sweet to rest our judgment upon theirs. Multi- 
tudes of Christians thus pin their faith to the beliefs that 
Christ held and taught. But such a leaning upon another 
must be only provisional; we cannot ultimately surrender 
our judgment, or follow blindly a leader, however dear and 
worthy of our reverence. 

In a slightly different sense, faith may mean the adoption 
of a belief as a working hypothesis, in lack of sufficient evi- 
dence to convince the intellect one way or the other. Such a 
faith is, again, often necessary, and of great value; but it 
must remain open to challenge and criticism, be freely dis- 
carded if evidence against it appears, and never assume a 
certainty that it does not actually possess. 1 

In the best sense, however, in the sense in which faith 
actually saves, it is not a belief in alleged facts (which would 
ultimately require evidence of the truth of those facts to 
justify it), but a moral state, a disposition of the heart and 
will, which is quite independent of the existence or non- 
existence of any outward facts. It is not the acceptance of 
doctrines on scanty evidence, it is the laying-hold, through 
the imagination, on a higher life; the keeping of the mind set 
on it when lower passions obtrude themselves and mar the 
vision; a steadfast refusal to let the concrete failures and 

senses of other people, its certainty would after all be merely a weaker form 
of the certainty of sense. Such a faith is neither intrinsically worth main- 
taining, nor in the long run can it maintain itself, against the demands of 
reason. Reason will not be kept at bay by being told that certain truths are 
above it, when these 'truths,' if they are anything at all, are propositions 
concerning matters of fact to which from their nature the principles regu- 
lating all knowledge must be fully applicable." 

1 The ethics of faith, in these two senses, will be discussed below, in 
chap. xxv. 



FAITH AND PRAYER 185 

discouragements of the day turn our eyes away from that 
ideal of our life whose presence is our inspiration and power. 
It is the " assurance of things hoped for " — that is, an opti- 
mistic attitude, a believing attitude toward the future; it is 
" the conviction of things not seen " ; 1 that is, a keeping firm 
hold of the intangible realities of the spiritual life, even when 
their worth cannot be felt and their glow is gone. 2 

Faith is then not rightly opposed to reason — nor is it so 
opposed in the Bible — but to sight; it is not a way of ascer- 
taining truth, but a way of holding on to truth that there is 
ample justification for believing. Faith cannot tell us that 
water will buoy us up; but when experience has taught us 
that it will, it requires faith to let ourselves plunge in. So 
in religion : we recognize the truth of the laws of the spiritual 
life, but it requires faith to use them; we admit the superior- 
ity of Christ's way of life, but it takes faith to cleave to it 
when passion possesses us and desire points another way. 
Faith, thus, in its highest and moral sense, is the believing 
in and holding on to an ideal of life against all the tempta- 
tions and foreshortening illusions of the senses. The diffi- 
culty in the way of it is not an intellectual but a moral, not 

1 Heb. 11: 1. 

2 Cf., for current definitions of faith, Rev. Elwood Worcester: "Faith 
makes the invisible world real to us, convinces us that the things of the 
spirit are not fancies but ultimate realities." W. R. Inge: "Faith is the 
faculty that makes real to us the future and the unseen . . . frees us from the 
trammels of time, enabling us to assume a heroic attitude in face of tem- 
poral sufferings by regarding events sub specie eternitatis." Dewey and 
Tufts: Faith is "the staking of one's self upon the truth and worth of one's 
ideal." So Matthew Arnold (St. Paul and Protestantism, chap, n) : Faith 
is "a power, preeminently, of holding fast to an unseen power of goodness." 

In Hastings's Dictionary of the Bible, Faith is defined as "a trustful ap- 
propriation of Christ and a surrender of self to his salvation." "Intellectual 
acceptance is not at all the Biblical meaning." 

Leuba defines it as "the formation of a vital partnership with the repre- 
sentative of an ideal (or with the abstract ideal itself) by which life rises to 
greater intensity, more complete inner harmony and fuller self-realization." 
(American Journal of Religious Psychology, vol. 1, p. 80.) 



186 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

an objective but a subjective difficulty. There come times 
to the best of us when ideals seem visionary and warm throb- 
bing human passions alone of worth. We have learned that 
the way of self-restraint is the best way and our duty, but 
for the moment we cannot see that it is so. We have to 
"walk by faith, not by sight." x But however the tempta- 
tion presses, however it bids us call purity an illusion and 
yield to the demands of the senses, if we keep the faith, if we 
are faithful to our ideal, we shall be saved. 

There is nothing mysterious about this, nothing irrational. 
It is the same attitude in religion that has made men suc- 
cessful in other matters. Faith is not to be found exclusively 
in religion. Columbus, refusing to let fear daunt or warnings 
dissuade him, keeping steadily his faith in the possibilities 
that lay before him, found a new continent for man. Alex- 
ander setting out to conquer the world, Grant before Vicks- 
burg, Lincoln facing the chaos of a severed country — all 
great men have needed a strong faith in their ideals to nerve 
them to carry them successfully through. Men are proud to 
have faith in the women they love, mothers in their sons, 
patriots in their country and its destiny. How much more 
do we need it in the religious life, in that intangible realm 
where the greatest truths so easily elude us or become ob- 
scured by the mists of pettiness and passion! The Christian 
personifies his ideal in Christ, and through faith in him rises 
above his weaknesses. But whether it come through Christ 
or some other inspiring leader, or through our own experi- 
ence and courage, matters little, so we sternly lay aside all 
discouragement and cynicism, and have faith in our spiritual 
possibilities, faith in a better life for man, a faith vivid and 
real enough to bring our whole souls to the realizing of those 
possibilities and the bringing about of that better order. 

1 2 Cor. 5: 7. 



FAITH AND PRAYER 187 

What has been the evolution of prayer? 

The religious life, instinctive as under certain conditions 
and in certain moods it is, maintains itself with difficulty in 
the average human soul, and has need of every possible sup- 
port and stay. It needs that dogged devotion through all 
doubts and temptations that we call faith; it needs also that 
daily communion with God and rededication of spirit that 
we call prayer. Prayer, however, like so many other of the 
concepts and practices of developed religion, has sprung 
historically from a non-religious and superstitious source. 
Its beginnings lay in the frantic and haphazard attempts of 
primitive man to avert disaster when no practical methods 
suggested themselves — in the cries and gesticulations and 
prostrations that were the instinctive reaction of his uneasy 
and bewildered body. Thence it developed in three main 
directions, of which we may in turn speak. 

(1) Spell-prayer. Certain experiences of the power of a 
dominant personality over other men, combined with chance 
successes which seemed to prove a power over nature, gave 
rise to practices of incantation, conjuration, and elaborate 
strategy, which are commonly summed up by the term 
" magic." In magical practices the supernatural powers are 
summoned, domineered over, utilized, without need of win- 
ning their favor. By the proper spells the savage believes he 
can bend their wills to his and command their services. The 
Arabian Nights' tales amply illustrate this widespread prim- 
itive conception; the genie whom Aladdin summons, for 
example, is his bounden slave; only, just the right act must 
be performed, just the right words spoken. In other cases 
the effect of the magic may be directly upon one's enemy or 
friend. But in all these cases there is no appeal, no petition, 
but rather coercion, through some mysterious and occult 
means. There is something exciting and alluring about such 



188 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

operations; and in spite of the skepticism of modern science 
magic dies hard. The belief in witchcraft flourished in the 
cultured New England of a few generations ago; the "evil 
eye" is an undoubted fact in some parts of Italy to-day. 
Multitudes of Catholics attribute a magical efficacy to the 
making of the sign of the cross or the telling of beads. Exor- 
cisms are still practiced, relics and bones of saints are be- 
lieved to have healing power; one may even suggest that 
the phrase "for Christ's sake" is felt by many petitioners 
to exercise a sort of compelling influence upon God. 

(2) Petition-prayer. Magic perhaps antedated animism. 
But with the development of animistic conceptions of na- 
ture, supplication was naturally made for favors needed and 
for the averting of calamities feared. So widespread did this 
habit become that the word "prayer" means to most men 
to-day "petition." But with the discovery of the seeming 
omnipresence of natural law, and the widespread modern 
doubts as to the existence of personality behind nature, the 
habit has, among educated people, become severely shaken. 
Is God a Being who hears and answers petitions? If he can 
be assumed to be such a conscious Ruler of the universe, 
with the interests of men at heart, does he deflect his great 
purposes at the wish of individuals, or even of groups? Is it 
not rather a worthier conception of God that he should know 
and plan what is best for men, and hold to that plan in spite 
of their blind and foolish requests? Or do we know, after all, 
that God is omnipotent, that he can break the chain of 
natural law if he would, that he can give to men all the 
blessings he might long for them to have? 

All such questions must wait upon our particular concep- 
tion of God and the universe; they cannot be answered, even 
as a matter of probability, at this stage in our inquiry. And, 
to anticipate the outcome of our later discussion, 1 we may 
1 See, especially, chaps, xviii and xxiii. 



FAITH AND PRAYER 189 

frankly confess here that, in the present state of our knowl- 
edge, they cannot be answered at all with assurance. Mod- 
ern conceptions of the nature of God, of the relation of God 
to the world, and of the possibility of supernatural inter- 
vention in the natural order, are as yet fluctuating and fluid ; 
no safe deductions can be drawn, a priori, as to the answer- 
ing of petitions. And when we come to a posteriori evidence, 
we must admit, if we are as scrupulous here as in other mat- 
ters, that there is none that approaches conclusiveness. 
Innumerable cases of apparently answered prayer are, of 
course, available; but if cases of apparently unanswered 
prayer were as zealously collected they would probably far 
outbulk the others. No scientifically conducted statistical 
study has ever been made, to the knowledge of the writer of 
this volume, to ascertain whether the number of "answers'' 
exceeds the probabilities of coincidence, coupled with the 
human efforts that are usually also made. 1 The fact that so 
many saints, that Jesus himself, our spiritual leader, be- 
lieved implicitly in the power and desire of God to grant 
human petitions, can no longer be felt as proof. In so many 
ways these peerless souls were mistaken in their conceptions; 
if they were above their age in spiritual insight, they shared 
its errors as to matters of fact. Saintliness and moral power 
are no guaranty of the truth of the theological conceptions 
that in any given environment go with them; on the con- 
trary, practical religious genius rarely goes hand in hand 
with power of analysis or a scientific sense. 2 

1 Cf . the proposal for such an inquiry made by Tyndall in 1872. Quite a 
discussion ensued. See Contemporary Review, vol. 20, pp. 205, 430, 763, 777; 
vol. 21, pp. 183, 464. Fortnightly Review, new series, vol. 12, p. 125. 

2 In a questionnaire conducted by the author of this volume among col- 
lege graduates in this country, the question was asked, "Does prayer avail 
to change the sequence of natural events in addition to its effect upon him 
who prays?" Nearly all the respondents were professed Christians. Of 
these twenty-five per cent were convinced, and eleven per cent more clung 
to faith, or hope, that it does so avail. Thirty-eight per cent positively dis- 



190 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

But not to be able to prove is by no means to disprove. 
So, however unsatisfying the results of candid investigation 
may be, millions of petitions will continue to arise from 
yearning hearts the world over; and the desired blessings, if 
they come, will be deemed answers thereto. And even if 
these happy believers are cherishing an illusion, no harm can 
possibly come therefrom, but rather much good, unless human 
effort is relaxed, in reliance upon superhuman help, or unless 
the judgment of men as to evidence and logic is blurred 
by their practical reliance upon an unproved postulate. 

(3) Communion- and consecration-prayer. But the con- 
troversy over the outward efficacy of prayer must not too 
exclusively engage us. For the usefulness and rationality of 
prayer do not stand or fall with our verdict upon that point. 
In any case, prayer is chiefly useful for the production of 
inward and spiritual changes. If we finally learn that the 
universe is so made that prayer cannot produce rain, or pre- 
vent a shipwreck, if that is not the kind of thing that prayer 
accomplishes, religion need not hesitate to acknowledge the 
fact. If obtruding our personal petitions upon the Univer- 
sal Life is futile, communion with God, and repeated dedi- 
cation of our hearts to God, is a practice of unquestionable 
reasonableness and worth. There are sources of spiritual 
energy which we can tap; they were very early found by 
praying men, and prayer tends to become, in ever-increasing 
degree, communion and consecration. 1 

believed it, twenty-six per cent had no opinion. See Independent, vol. 75, 
p. 755. 

1 Cf. James, Varieties of Religious Experience, p. 464: "Every one now 
knows that droughts and storms follow from physical antecedents, and that 
moral appeals cannot avert them. But petitional prayer is only one depart- 
ment of prayer; and if we take the word in the wider sense as meaning every 
kind of inward communion or conversation with the power recognized as 
divine, we can easily see that scientific criticism leaves it untouched. 
Prayer in this wide sense is the very soul and essence of religion." 

So M. W. Calkins, in Harvard Theological Review, vol. 4, p. 496: "Histor- 



FAITH AND PRAYER 191 

What is the function and value of prayer? 

Leaving open, then, the question as to the outward effi- 
cacy of prayer, we can at least say that its chief efficacy is 
inward. Prayer is vital for the soul's life; and no man, what- 
ever his theological position, can afford to do without it. 
Jesus gave the reason when he said, "This kind goeth not 
out but by prayer." He prayed constantly himself, and 
doubtless drew from that source much of his inward strength. 
The apostle likewise bids us "pray without ceasing" — be- 
cause men are "sanctified by the word of God and prayer." x 
So down the centuries the strong men have been the praying 
men. More things, truly, are wrought by prayer than the 
heedless, happy-go-lucky world dreams of; the experience 
of the saints testifies abundantly to its almost limitless 
power over temptation, fear, and even physical weakness. 2 
Whether or not prayer can alter the face of nature, it 
certainly can alter us — and far more radically than a 
superficial thought might suggest. Beneath our shallow and 
fleeting conscious life lie the unplumbed depths of the sub- 
conscious; thoughts and moods that make no immediate 
outward mark upon a man's conduct have their slowly ac- 
cumulating effect therein, which, some day revealing itself, 
may surprise every one, perhaps no one more than the man 
himself. Prayer reaches down to these hidden strata of our 

ical investigation and psychological analysis unite in the demonstration 
that prayer is more than petition." 

And Rev. J. H. Crooker, The Church of To-morrow: "The simple fact is 
that God has not given human desire a mechanical efficiency in the phys- 
ical world, any more than He has given the force of gravity a psycholog- 
ical efficiency in the world of human thought. . . . And yet true prayer is 
not ruled out of even those realms by this interpretation. Whatever helps 
the bridge-builder, the engineer, and the farmer to a divine life makes pos- 
sible a stronger bridge, a safer train, a better harvest." 

1 Mark 14: 38. Matt. 17: 21. 1 Thess. 5: 17. 1 Tim. 4:5. 

2 For one testimony to the marvelous efficacy of prayer inwardly, see 
the Outlook, vol. 83, p. 857. 



192 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

lives, and may profoundly influence them. Through it many 
a man has overcome faults of temper or of sense that 
sorely beset him, and has emerged from his closet master of 
himself and easily virtuous in the eyes of a world that knew 
nothing of his secret struggles. 

To take then some regular time of the day for meditation 
upon our duties and our needs, for turning our minds back 
from the practical affairs or the pleasures that choke our 
higher aspirations, to the fundamental and serious aspects 
of life — this practice, steadily and undeviatingly followed, 
is the only safe method by which most men can keep even 
approximately true to their own ideals. At such moments 
the irritation, the petulance, the passions that may have 
overswept the heart are hushed and brought sharply into 
contrast with the purity and unselfishness and self-restraint 
to which it is pledged; if the prayer is sincere, their gathering 
momentum cannot but be stopped and the heart purged and 
reinvigorated. Even if no violent passions have invaded its 
sanctuary, the dust of petty thoughts and paltry feelings 
inevitably gathers and calls for a periodic house-cleaning 
that should be not too infrequent. Out of the whirl and dis- 
tractions of the day, out of the mistakes and the failures, 
back to the pure atmosphere of the ideal let a man turn, 
where strength is to be gathered to meet the perplexities and 
temptations that await him. 

By the thoughts that are in a man's heart will his actions 
be guided. Wisely spake the lawgiver when he wrote, "Thou 
shalt talk of these things when thou sittest in thine house, 
and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest 
down, and when thou risest up." ' Wise are the apostle's 
words, " Whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are 
pure . . . think on these things." 2 A hundred times a day 
is none too often to think on them; if the pause is only for a 
1 Deut. 6: 7. 2 Phil. 4: 8. 




FAITH AND PRAYER 193 

moment it may lighten an hour, like a sudden burst of sun- 
shine in cloudy weather. But at least once in a day, and at a 
regular hour, lest it be forgotten, there should be a lull in the 
active life and a consecration prolonged enough to bring the 
heart well under the spell of its ideals. 1 

Surely the time and effort thus spent, even if taken from a 
busy and useful life, are richly rewarded. That is, if the 
prayer is directed to the actual needs of a man's heart and is 
not a vague emotional debauch or mechanical repetition of 
words. Prayer may be a sort of aesthetic ecstasy; it may be 
an anaesthetic that blinds us to our pressing duties; it may 
be a vain agonizing over our own troubles or those of our 
loved ones; it may be nothing but "vain repetitions," such 
as Jesus denounced. There are many possible distortions of 
prayer, — the complacent praise of the well-fed congrega- 
tion, that ignores the hopeless misery of its poorer neigh- 
bors, the parrot-like mumbling of the churchman whose 

1 Cf. Matthew Arnold (Literature and Dogma, chap, i): "All good and 
beneficial prayer is in truth, however men may describe it, at bottom noth- 
ing else than an energy of aspiration towards the eternal not ourselves that 
makes for righteousness, — of aspiration towards it, and of cooperation 
with it. Nothing therefore can be more efficacious, more right and more 
real." 

Cf . also Tolstoy (in a private letter) : " But because petitionary prayer 
has no meaning, it does not follow that one cannot or should not pray. On 
the contrary, I believe it is impossible to live without prayer, and that 
prayer is the necessary condition of a good, peaceful and happy life. . . . 
In every man there is a divine spark, the Spirit of God. Prayer consists in 
calling forth in one's self the divine element while renouncing all that is of 
this world, all which can distract one's feelings. . . . Free solitary prayer 
consists of all which in the words of other wise and righteous men, or in 
one's own, brings the soul back to the consciousness of its divine source, to a 
more vivid and clear expression of the demands of one's conscience, i.e., 
of one's divine nature. Prayer is a test of one's present and past actions ac- 
cording to the highest demands of the soul. ... I also endeavor to pray 
during the daily round of my life, while I am with men and passions are get- 
ting hold of me. It is in these cases I try to recall to mind all that took place 
in my soul during my solitary prayer, and the more sincere that prayer was, 
the easier it is to refrain from evil." 



194 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

mind in its blankness is vaguely soothed by the rising and 
falling cadences, the sanctimonious orisons of the monk 
whose hands are unsoiled by practical service, the wail for 
alleviation of their lot from the discontented. Only that 
prayer is right that is manly and brave, that accepts without 
cringing whatever lot befalls; only that prayer is useful that 
is relevant to the practical duties of a life; only that prayer 
is worthy that is spontaneous and earnest and into which a 
man's whole heart is poured; only that prayer is to be urged 
which is necessary to keep a man living up to the best of his 
capabilities and at the height of his powers. 

Familiar phrases have their value, especially if they come 
from the pen of some loved teacher or revered sage. Few 
men have pondered and read enough to be able to clothe 
their own aspirations adequately in words; except for this 
borrowing of others' prayers, their aspirations would remain 
largely inarticulate and lacking in that powerful reinforce- 
ment that they might receive from embodiment in fitting 
terms and moving periods. Then, to repeat the expression of 
another's resolves, and to find that they coincide with one's 
own, is to draw close in spirit to him and to feel one's own 
aspirations as a part of the whole uplooking heart of human- 
ity. In the repetition of such prayers a breath of the other's 
aspiration, a strengthening influence from the other's re- 
solve, a new insight and higher vision may come, that one 
groping alone with his problems would never have found. 

The danger in such repetitions is that they become mere 
words and fail to reach the heart; that they miss the real 
needs of the struggling soul and represent duties and long- 
ings alien to its problems. Better than such empty forms is 
the freshly worded prayer, the personal cry of the individual 
heart, however confused and incoherent, that expresses its 
own longings and its genuine resolves. And in the task of 
putting into words the ideals one wishes to attain, or stigma- 



FAITH AND PRAYER 195 

tizing in its proper light the particular sin one wishes to 
overcome, a good deal is accomplished. No one whose battle 
with his lower nature is a real and pressing matter will rest 
content with a mere use of another's phrases; his own ex- 
tremity or the particular beauty that lies to him in some 
noble manner of life will formulate for him better than any 
other could do the words he shall say. 

No half-hearted prayer will do, no perfunctory murmuring 
of words, as if the very exercise itself were commendable and 
a duty. If it is worth doing at all it is worth doing effec- 
tively. It may be well for the child to grow into the habit of 
prayer before he is old enough to make it a vital thing to 
him; it may be that phrases repeated with little thought or 
earnestness will linger in his mind and come to his rescue in 
some later trouble. But what counts ultimately is the con- 
secration of heart, the spirit of willingness and resolve; and 
the constant bringing of that spirit into the foreground of 
consciousness until it becomes the dominant mood, so 
wholly the dominant mood that not even in some careless or 
tired moment can the unkind word or impulse of passion slip 
out and pass into irrevocable fact. 

Faith: G. B. Cutten, Psychological Phenomena of Christianity, 
chaps, xv-xvi. H. Hoffding, Philosophy of Religion, pp. 116-35. 
P. Strutt, Nature of Faith. J. H. Skrine, What is Faith? C. C. 
Everett, Theism and the Christian Faith, chap. xxxn. T. H. Green, 
Faith (in Two Sermons). C. Gore, ed., Lux Mundi, chap. i. G. L. 
Dickinson, Religion, a Criticism and a Forecast, chap. iv. W. R. 
Inge, Faith and its Psychology. American Journal of Religious Psy- 
chology, vol. 1, p. 65. 

Prayer: L. R. Farnell, Evolution of Religion, chap. iv. F. B. 
Jevons, Prayer (in Introduction to the Study of Comparative Reli- 
gion). A. Sabatier, Outlines of a Philosophy of Religion, bk. i, chap, 
iv, sec. 4. R. R. Marett, Threshold of Religion, chap. n. A. L. 
Strong, Psychology of Prayer. D. W. Faunce, Prayer as a Theory 
and as a Fact. G. S. Merriam, Prayers and their Answers (in The 
Man of To-day). W. James, Varieties of Religious Experience, chap. 



196 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

19. G. B. Cutten, Psychological Phenomena of Christianity, chap. 
xxviii. E. S. Ames, Psychology of Religious Experience, chap. 
viii. E. H. Rowland, Right to Believe, chap. vi. W. E. Hocking, 
Meaning of God in Human Experience, chap. xxix. G. A. Coe, 
Religion of a Mature Mind, chap. xi. W. N. Rice, Prayer (in Chris- 
tian Faith in an Age of Science). J. Wendland, Miracles and Chris- 
tianity, chap. vn. G. Santayana, Reason in Religion, pp. 38-48. 
R. C. Cabot, What Men Live By, pt. iv. Hibbert Journal, vol. 9, 
p. 385. Harvard Theological Review, vol. 4, p. 489. American Jour- 
nal of Religious Psychology y vol. i, p. 129; vol. 2, pp. 108, 160. 



CHAPTER XIII 

RELIGIOUS LOVE AND PEACE 

The spirit of love and service in religion 

Sacrifice, faith, and prayer are necessary as means of 
saving the individual life from its pitfalls. But if the ad- 
justment of a man's impulses to his own needs forces itself 
perhaps most unavoidably upon his attention, the disciplin- 
ing of his attitude toward others is in the long run even more 
essential. That he sink into the mire of unrestrained vice 
himself is less of a harm than that he hurt those about him; 
and though he save his own soul, if he help not his neighbor 
his religion is a narrow and petty affair. Human life, being 
necessarily social, demands, not only that we harmonize 
with one another our chaotic impulses, but that we adapt 
them, at whatever cost, to the wills and needs of others. 
Pure religion and undefiled has these two leading aspects: 
ministering love — "to visit the fatherless and widows in 
their affliction"; and personal purity — "to keep one's self 
unspotted from the world." 1 

These two aspects of the religious life naturally go to- 
gether, self-restraint for one's own sake merging with self- 
restraint for the sake of others. But there is also a certain 
tendency of purity, when unbalanced by charity, to be un- 
sympathetic, hard, and narrow; and the purest are some- 
times the most unlovable of people. As we grow higher in 
our ideals and stricter with ourselves we loathe sin more and 
more, and very easily fall into loathing the sinner. Faults 
that are readily overlooked by the average easy-going man 

1 Jas. 1 : 27. 



198 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

incite the vigorous condemnation of the purist; with weak- 
ness which he has himself conquered he has scant patience, 
and for ideals foreign to his own he has no sympathy. The 
Psalms, for instance, with their hunger and thirst after 
righteousness, are full of maledictions against evildoers, and 
show a temper often far from charitable. By the noblest 
religion, however, not only self-indulgence and avarice and 
lust are branded as sins, but haughtiness and self-conceit, 
the spirit that says, "Lord, I thank thee that I am not as 
these!" For even these are our brothers too, whom we are 
to save from sin if we can, but in any case to love. If they 
offend against us we are not to give way to "righteous indig- 
nation," — that phrase by which Christians have justified 
anger and enmity, — but are to forgive seven times — nay, 
seventy times seven times. "For love suffereth long and is 
kind, love seeketh not her own, is not provoked, taketh not 
account of evil — endure th all things." 

But even when religion has not led men to a positively 
hard-hearted attitude toward their fellows, it has often con- 
centrated their thoughts unworthily upon personal salva- 
tion, to the neglect of their proper office of helpfulness. They 
have built cathedrals that soothed their spirits and drew 
them individually nearer to God, they have with prayer and 
mortification of the flesh striven to conquer some trivial 
fault that weighed on their conscience; but at the end the 
world has been little better or happier for their lives. Against 
this spirit many a religious reformer has striven. The real 
saint is he who asks, not "What shall I do to be saved?" 
but, "What shall I do to be of service? " Not the hermit in 
his solitary fastings, not the monk with his endless concern 
that his sins be forgiven, but St. Francis, binding with his 
own hands the leper's wounds, Darwin, devoting the toil of 
a lifetime for the benefit of human knowledge, those private 
soldiers who risked their lives in the fight against yellow fever 



RELIGIOUS LOVE AND PEACE 199 

in Cuba, a million hard-working, self-sacrificing men and 
women the world over — these are the true Christians, the 
true saints and heroes of humanity. 1 

Worse than scorn or indifference, however, have been the 
persecutions, inquisitions, and crusades into which religious 
zeal has led men. Families have been divided, man has gone 
to war with brother man, and religion has at times seemed 
the greatest enemy of human concord. In the mediaeval 
ideal of chivalry — that curious and romantic blend of 
Christianity and paganism — the combative instinct re- 
ceived a religious consecration. It might have been supposed 
that Christianity, with its initial proclamation of peace and 
good- will toward men, would put an end to war; the early 
Christians, indeed, condemned it, even to the point of refus- 
ing military service. But Constantine fought under the 
cross, Augustine and Ambrose defended war, the aggression 
of Islam had to be met; and so "the cross became the handle 
of a sword." This martial religion, this militant church, had 
its noble and glorious side, to which we cannot but respond, 
as we read, for example, in Shakespeare's glowing words, of 
Norfolk's death: — 

"Many a time hath banished Norfolk fought 
For Jesu Christ in glorious Christian field, 
Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross 
Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens; 
And, toiled with works of war, retired himself 
To Italy; and there, at Venice, gave 
His body to that pleasant country's earth, 
And his pure soul unto his captain Christ, 
Under whose colours he had fought so long." 

Nevertheless, in its best days religion has known how to 
unite personal zeal with sympathy, a passionate devotion to 
its ideal, and a stern self-denial with tenderness toward the 
weak and erring and those of alien faith. It has taught, on 

1 Cf. Mazzini, "When I see any man called good, I ask, 'Whom, then, 
has he saved? ' " 



200 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

the one hand, "Be ye perfect," and, on the other hand, 
"Judge not, that ye be not judged." The pietas of the Ro- 
mans — their truly religious loyalty to family and state — 
and the intense national consciousness of the Jews were 
widened by Christianity into a recognition of universal 
brotherhood. The parable of the Good Samaritan taught 
the lesson. "We who are many are one body," wrote the 
Apostle; and again, to Jews and Greeks and Romans, "All 
ye are brethren." l 

It was not enough to refrain from judging one's neighbors 
and pointing at them the finger of scorn; Christianity in- 
sisted upon positive sympathy and service. The precepts of 
Isaiah were followed — to "seek justice, relieve the op- 
pressed, secure justice for the orphaned and plead for the 
widow." 2 The great Hebrew prophets had been spokesmen 
of the common people; the Jewish lawgivers had shown a 
marked humaneness toward the poor of the land, and even 
the resident alien. Jesus had mingled with all classes, re- 
buked the pride and self-seeking of his disciples, and set an 
incomparable example of tenderness and practical charity. 
To the rich young man of stainless reputation he said, "One 
thing thou lackest; go, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give 
to the poor"; on another occasion he bade his hearers, when 
they asked guests to dine, invite not the rich who could 
repay the kindness, but the poor who could not repay. 3 In 
similar vein Paul and the author of the Book of James had 
rebuked their churches for their caste spirit and lack of 
brotherliness. 4 In accordance with this teaching, the collec- 
tions in the primitive church were spent almost wholly for 
the service of the poor; indeed, the very organization of the 
church was designed primarily for this fraternal helpfulness. 
The sick, infirm, and disabled were cared for, the richer 

1 Rom. 12: 5. s Isa. 1 : 17. 8 Mark 10: 21. Luke 14: 12-14. 

4 1 Cor. 11: 17-34, etc. Jas. 2: 1-4. 



RELIGIOUS LOVE AND PEACE 201 

members gave their property freely, work was found for the 
unemployed, and the paradox of Jesus was followed seriously 
and with joy — "Whosoever will be great among you, let 
him be your minister; and whosoever will be chief among 
you, let him be your servant." l 

So important for early Christianity was this spirit of love 
and service that it seemed to many — as it has seemed to 
many since — the quintessence of religion. Jesus had said 
that the two greatest commandments were the love of God 
and of man; Paul went so far as to say, "The whole law is 
fulfilled in one word, even in this : Thou shalt love thy neigh- 
bor as thyself"; and again, of faith, hope, and love he said, 
"The greatest of these is love." 2 

Nor is this caritas of Paul's matchless eulogy a product 
exclusively of Christianity. Buddhism is full of it. Marcus 
Aurelius, the Stoic, has many passages in such vein as these : 
"Be always doing something serviceable to mankind; and 
let this constant generosity be your only pleasure." "It is 
man's peculiar power to love even those who do wrong. And 
this is possible if, when they do wrong, it occurs to thee that 
they are kinsmen, and that they do wrong through ignorance 
and blindly, and that soon both of you will die; and that the 
wrong-doer has done thee no real harm. " " Gently admonish 
him and calmly correct his errors, when he tries to do thee 
harm, saying, 'Not so, my child; we are constituted by na- 
ture for something else. I shall not be injured, but thou art 
injuring thyself.' " 3 And in a prayer of a certain Eusebius, 
an early Platonist, we read, "May I be no man's enemy, 
but may I be the friend of whatever is eternal and abiding. 
May I never quarrel with those nearest me; but if I do, may 
I be quickly reconciled. May I never devise evil against any 
man; if any devise evil against me, may I escape uninjured 

1 Matt. 20: 26-29. 2 Mark 12: 28-31. Gal. 5: 14. 1 Cor. 13: 13. 

8 Meditations, bks. vi, vn, ix. 



202 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

and without the need of hurting him. May I wish for all 
men's happiness and envy none. May I never rejoice in the 
ill-fortune of one who has wronged me. . . ." l 

Certainly no aspect of religion is more beautiful or more 
important than this. As in the personal sphere religion lifts 
the necessity of self-repression into a passionate love of 
purity, so in these wider relationships its task is to exalt the 
conception of duties to others into a longing to love and for- 
give and serve. Religion shifts the focus of a man's interests 
from his own welfare to that of his family, his neighbors, his 
fellow men; it so depersonalizes him that he finds his aims 
and his joys, not so much in his private fortunes as in the 
fortunes of that larger whole of which his life is but a part. 
Religion is a change in the center of gravity of life, a widen- 
ing of the boundaries of self. What it exists, above all else, 
to teach us, is that the way of love is the perfect way of 
life. 

And then, through this love of men, whom we see, we pass 
to the love of God, whom in his fullness we have not seen. 
This is love passing beyond its individual objects to the 
Universal Spirit of Good that shines through them all and 
makes them for us hints and glimpses of the Ideal, of that 
Perfect Good which eludes us in earthly things, but which we 
must ever love and follow. Tired of the transient and the 
changing, torn between the fleeting and fading objects of its 
love, the mind longs for something stable and eternal. Disil- 
lusioned in his idealization of particular creatures, to what 
may a man safely pay his adoration? To nothing but to 
God, the Absolute Good, dwelling in all loveworthy persons 
and beautiful things, but nowhere on earth perfectly real- 
ized. Only, indeed, in individual men and things can we find 
God in tangible, visible form; and to these particular persons 
and objects, with their flaws and their ephemeral existence, 
1 Quoted by G. Murray, Four Stages of Greek Religion, p. 182. 



RELIGIOUS LOVE AND PEACE 203 

our loyalty should rightly cling. Yet it is not their imper- 
fections that call out our love, but the revelation of God that 
we find in them. In this thought the heart may find a new 
comfort and peace. For though this or that particular ob- 
ject vanish and die, God persists, and will still rejoice the 
heart that has learned to love him wherever he may be 
found. 

Religious peace 

The natural result of the life of purity and love is peace. 
When the inner discord of an undisciplined life and the con- 
flict of selfish desires with the needs of others are done away 
with, the greatest enemies of our happiness are overcome. 
Yet the pure and loving heart is not always for that at rest. 
For the longing for purity and the ability to love bring in 
their train new occasions for suffering; and there are in any 
case many natural ills, not remediable, which come even to 
the most loyal and sinless souls. These agonies and losses 
and catastrophes that torture the innocent as well as the 
guilty are irretrievably in the world; religion cannot remove 
them. What it can do is to help a man to bear them, to lift 
him into a state of mind which shall be above their assaults, 
so that he can say, "O grave, where is thy victory; O death, 
where is thy sting! " 

If religion is to be at all profound, it must thus stoop to 
meet the pain and the misery of life, it must abide with them 
and somehow soften their sting. The noblest religions — as, 
notably, Buddhism and Christianity — have had much to 
say of sorrow, and have, for this reason, sometimes been 
called pessimistic. But neither of these religions is really 
pessimistic, neither ends in repining, or adds to the burden 
of life; instead, they inexpressibly lighten that burden and 
rob it of its worst aspects. "Come unto me," said Buddha; 
" I teach a doctrine which leads to deliverance from all the 



204 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

miseries of life." "Come unto me," said Christ. "Come 
unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will 
give you rest." 

The secret of this peace has been, primarily, the freeing of 
the heart from worldly desires. The added vistas of hope 
beyond the grave, and the Christian conception of a Father 
God who watches and loves his children, have given great 
comfort and consolation. But a large share of the peace that 
they have brought is due to the new valuations they have 
induced; they have taught men to set their hearts, not upon 
what is transient and uncertain, but upon what is sure and 
abiding. "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, 
where moth and rust doth corrupt and where thieves break 
through and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in 
heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt and where 
thieves do not break through or steal." 

At times the attempt has been made by distracted men to 
take these precepts with a thoroughgoing literalness. The 
deliberate cult of poverty, which has characterized some 
phases of Christianity as well as of other religions, has the 
secret of its fascination in the freedom it gives the soul. 
He who makes it his own will to have nothing is secure from 
all those disappointments and worries and temptations that 
hover near the man who has possessions and does not know 
how to get along without them. Poverty — when relieved of 
anxiety for the means of subsistence — is, as a Catholic 
writer says, "A great repose." The pursuit of poverty is 
impracticable in our modern organization of society; and it 
has its great drawbacks at best, rendering impossible much 
that makes life most desirable. But it is possible for us in 
some measure to attain the end those mendicant monks at- 
tained; we can, while owning things to a reasonable extent, 
and enjoying fully whatever pleasures come our way, remain 
inwardly above their power, not counting upon them, not 






RELIGIOUS LOVE AND PEACE 205 

basing our happiness upon them, and so not becoming miser- 
able if they are taken away. 

This unworldliness may easily lead, however, to a damp- 
ening of human energies and a paralysis of practical activity. 
The power to rise above ordinary troubles may lead to a 
neglect of available means for averting or curing them; the 
ability to endure our own ills may become a disinclination to 
bestir ourselves to lessen the ills of others. This has been, in 
fact, one of the insidious dangers of the religious life. 

"On the terraced walk aloof 
Leans a monk with folded hands, 
Placid, satisfied, serene, 
Looking down upon the scene, 
Over wall and red-tiled roof; 
Wondering unto what good end 
All this toil and traffic tend, 
And why all men cannot be 
Free from care and free from pain, 
And the sordid love of gain, 
And as indolent as he." x 

For such a man religion has become a mere personal luxury, 
not a stimulus and driving power; it has degenerated into a 
cowardly escape from the problems of humanity instead of 
being a force for their solution — a retreat from life instead 
of its transformation. 

There is a better way to peace than this : namely, not by 
ceasing to care for worldly matters, but by caring more for 
spiritual matters; the way of self-forgetfulness by self- 
surrender to something greater than our private fortune and 
worthy of our entire devotion. Indifference to our personal 
welfare is an impoverishment of life unless we put in place of 
that primary interest some deeper purpose, something noble 
to live for, to give meaning and worth to life. To become 
concerned, not with what we are to get out of life, but with 
what we can put in, to let ourselves become mere instru- 

1 Longfellow, Amalfi. 



206 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

ments, to merge our wills with the will of God, is to learn the 
secret that Dante teaches in his great line, — 

"In la sua voluntade e nostra pace." 

Nothing can take from us the joy of doing our part well, 
however humble a part it be, of belonging to the great army 
of those who are battling for the welfare of man against his 
ancient enemies, pain and ignorance and sin. For no matter 
how little we may be able personally to do, our cause is ad- 
vancing, its triumphs are ours; every stroke made for the 
right, every act of love or of heroism the world over adds to 
our rejoicing. Slowly but steadily our cause is advancing; if 
we can learn to care supremely for its triumphs and to con- 
secrate to its service what strength we have of heart and 
hand, we too may find the peace that passeth understanding. 
"Let it make no difference to thee," says Marcus Aurelius, 
"whether thou art cold or warm, if thou art doing thy duty; 
and whether thou art drowsy or satisfied with sleep; and 
whether ill-spoken of or praised; and whether dying or doing 
something else." "Let our lives be kindness and our conduct 
righteousness," says Buddha; "then in the fullness of glad- 
ness shall we make an end of grief." But it must not be a 
mere modicum of kindness and righteousness, it must be an 
utter self-forgetfulness in them; it must be that veritable 
losing of our lives through which, as Jesus taught, we shall 
most truly find them. 

Mysticism and Christian Science. 

In conclusion, we may mention two phases of the reli- 
gious life which have in a peculiar degree brought peace to 
the human heart. The one consists in cultivating an emo- 
tional sense of the wonder and joy of life, ranging from a 
passing mood to a prolonged trance-like state or an almost 
continuous exaltation of spirit. This cultivation of the bea- 



RELIGIOUS LOVE AND PEACE 207 

tific vision is best known as "mysticism." The other phase 
consists in an obstinate refusal to admit the existence of evil 
or to respond to it with the usual reactions — fear, grief, 
disappointment, regret. Practiced in many forms, as a part 
of many faiths, it is best known to us under its contemporary 
name of "Christian Science." We shall not now concern 
ourselves with the implications of these experiences for our 
knowledge of the world; whatever inferential value they 
possess must await discussion at a later point in our study. 1 
But just as experiences, worth repeating in our own lives 
as a means of heightening their intrinsic value, we may here 
briefly consider them. 

Mysticism is many centuries old. A careful training in the 
attainment of its illumination was practiced in Brahmanic 
India, under the name of "Yoga"; attention was paid to 
such physical details as diet, posture, breathing, concentra- 
tion of mind, as well as to an antecedent moral discipline. 2 
Catholic manuals teach the art; it is known in Mohammedan 
Persia; no religion or creed has a monopoly of it. Its extreme 
forms, which are a sort of self-hypnotization and actual 
trance, are open, no doubt, only to certain temperaments; 
but in some degree all, of whatever faith, can attain, at least 
at moments, to its blessed assurance and bliss. 3 

1 See pp. 326-30. 

2 Cf. "The bliss of Brahman! Speech and mind fall back baffled and 
ashamed; all fear vanishes in the knowing of that bliss." See S. Abhe- 
dananda, How to be a Yogi. 

3 No two writers agree in their definitions of mysticism. Inge speaks of 
it as "an attempt to realize the presence of the living God in the soul and 
in nature. . . . Complete union with God" (p. 5). Cutten says: "Mysticism 
is subjective religion. It is religion seeking to emancipate itself from the 
tyranny of external media. It is religion bringing the soul into the immedi- 
ate presence of God" (p. 24). William James (whose discussion in lectures 
xvi-xvii of his Varieties of Religious Experience remains the most illuminat- 
ing presentation of the subject) declares that mystical experiences are 
"states of consciousness of an entirely specific quality"; "a deepened sense 
of the significance" of things; "incommunicable transports"; "the over- 



208 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

Space is lacking here for a discussion of the best means of 
attaining to these moments of insight into the wonder and 
beauty of life. 1 Our lives are, in any case, too rushed, too 
full of practical duties, to allow us to undergo the elaborate 
training of the adepts in mysticism; the best most of us can 
hope is, in moments now and then, under the spell of some 
glorious sunset, some peculiarly lovely landscape, or a strain 
of exquisite music, when in love, or when deeply moved by a 
book, a sermon, a play, or some great experience, to draw 
this deeper breath, get this deeper vision. We may catch it 
from some poet — from Wordsworth, when he speaks of 

" That serene and blessed mood 
In which . . . 

. . . with an eye made quiet by the power 
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, 
We see into the life of things." 

Or from Amiel, when he writes of those "moments divine, 
ecstatic hours, in which our thought flies from world to 
world, pierces the great enigma, breathes with a respiration 
broad, tranquil, and deep as the respiration of the ocean, 
serene and limitless as the blue firmament, . . . instants of 
irresistible intuition, in which one feels one's self great as the 
Universe, and calm as a god." Or from Emerson, when he 
says, "Crossing a bare common, in snow-puddles, at twi- 
light, under a clouded sky, without having in my thoughts 

coming of all the usual barriers between the individual and the Absolute"; 
a "feeling of enlargement, union, and emancipation"; a "sense of ineffable 
importance in the smallest events"; "excitements like the emotions of love 
or ambition, gifts to our spirit by means of which facts already objectively 
before us fall into a new expressiveness and make a new connection with our 
active life." A recent definition is this of G. P. Adams (in Harvard Theo- 
logical Review, vol. 4, p. 236) : " A profound discontent with the obvious, a 
search for those more remote meanings which overflow the barriers of the 
common presuppositions and discourse of men." 

1 For a chatty discussion of some of the avenues thereto, see O. Kuhns, 
The Sense of the Infinite. See also Atlantic Monthly, vol. 117, p. 590. 



RELIGIOUS LOVE AND PEACE 209 

any occurrence of special good fortune, I have enjoyed a 
perfect exhilaration. I am glad to the brink of fear." Or 
from Richard Jefferies, when he writes, "With all the inten- 
sity of feeling which exalted me, all the intense communion 
I held with the earth, the sun and sky, the stars hidden by 
the light, with the ocean — in no manner can the thrilling 
depth of these feelings be written — with these I prayed, as 
if they were the keys of an instrument, of an organ, with 
which I swelled forth the notes of my soul, redoubling my 
own voice by their power. The great sun burning with light; 
the strong earth, dear earth; the warm sky; the pure air; the 
thought of ocean; the inexpressible beauty of all filled me 
with a rapture, an ecstasy, an inflatus." l 

But besides cultivating these ecstasies, this ravishing 
sense of the worth and glory of life, we may set to work to 
blind ourselves to its defects. The Stoics developed this 
possibility in antiquity, sometimes half-unconsciously, and 
again with a sophisticated comprehension of the psychology 
involved. Marcus Aurelius, for example, realizes that the 
process is subjective. "Take away thy opinion," he says, 
"and there is taken away the complaint. Take away the 
complaint, and the harm is taken away. If thou art pained 
by any external thing, it is not this thing that disturbs thee, 
but thine own judgment about it; and it is in thy power to 
wipe out this judgment now." 2 Just such a persistent op- 
timism, that refuses to label anything trouble and smiles at 
whatever befalls, has been taught, far more blindly, but with 
great practical effectiveness, in our contemporary world by 
Christian Science. 

1 His Story of My Heart is full of such rhapsodical expressions of his 
mystical moods. 

2 Most of his utterances, however, are less sophisticated. Cf., e.g., "But 
life or death, honor or dishonor, pain or pleasure . . . are neither good nor 
evil. . . . Nothing is evil wjiich is according to nature." 



210 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

There is much in Mrs. Eddy's book and in the contempo- 
rary teaching of the sect that does not commend itself to the 
enlightened. As in the case of most religions, what is untrue 
and what is barren is reverenced and retained through its asso- 
ciation with a great and needed truth. But if we are to reject 
a faith because its founders mingled with it much that is irra- 
tional, which religion can retain our allegiance! There are, 
indeed, practical dangers connected with Christian Science 
— the danger of neglecting the resources of modern medicine 
and surgery, together with the proved advantages of disin- 
fection, quarantine, and hygiene in general; the danger, 
potential in every highly centralized organization, of domi- 
nating the minds of multitudes and using its power and 
money for harmful ends; the danger of opposing scientific 
education and keeping the minds of its followers on an irra- 
tional level. That Christian Science is not scientific needs 
no argument ; and in what material or mental ways that 
Church may harm the life of the community is yet to be seen. 
But surely the physical and spiritual good that it has done 
far outweighs any present evil. 

We must recognize that when Mrs. Eddy's disciples say 
that pain and evil are "unreal," they are using the word in 
the Platonic sense; "real" is to them a eulogistic word — as 
it has been, and is, for so many philosophers — meaning 
what belongs to the spiritual or ideal order. Whatever does 
not belong to this order has a less worthy kind of existence, 
and is to be counted out. Plato called it Mr) 6v — "non- 
existent " — or, perhaps we should translate it, " not to exist " ; 
Mrs. Eddy calls it "error." The words matter little; the 
practical point is, these evils must not exist for us, must not 
find a place in our world. Just as when we adopt any ideal 
we cease to compute and calculate, but throw ourselves 
whole-heartedly upon that side, so in our emotional reaction 
upon life we are to have eyes only for the good and refuse to 




RELIGIOUS LOVE AND PEACE 211 

see anything else. It is treating the world that is our home 
as we ought to treat our wives and mothers and dearest 
friends; it is our world, we love it and are loyal to it, for 
us it shall have no faults. 

No doubt for the Christian Scientist himself our apprecia- 
tion of his faith would seem inadequate; for him it is not an 
attitude, it is a recognition of what is objectively so. But, 
leaving this point for the present, 1 we may at least agree that 
Stoic and Christian Scientist and the other thoroughgoing 
eulogists of the world attain to an inward peace that marks 
out their faith as having in it something of great human 
worth. It is possible in far greater degree than most of us 
realize to banish fear and grief from our lives and attain to 
an invulnerable peace. The early Christians attained to it — 
cf. Justin Martyr's, "You can kill us, but you cannot hurt 
us!" 2 The early Buddhists attained to it — "Enter on this 
path and make an end of sorrow; verily the path has been 
preached by me, who have found out how to quench the 
darts of grief. . . . He who overcomes this contemptible 
thirst [the desire for the good things of life and rebellious- 
ness at ill fortune], . . . sufferings fall off from him like 
water-drops from a lotus leaf." 3 In recent years it has been 
attained in marked degree by Bahaists, 4 by some of the fol- 
lowers of the "New Thought," 5 as well as by many humble 
Christians of all sects, and by one here and there who has 

1 For further discussion of Christian Science, see pp. 182-83 and 325-26. 
And cf. S. L. Clemens, Christian Science; L. P. Powell, Christian Science; 
J. H. Leuba, Psychological Study of Religion, pp. 301-07; J. V. Morgan, 
ed., Theology at the Dawn of the Twentieth Century, pp. 369-401; G. B. 
Cutten, Psychological Phenomena of Christianity, chap, xvi; W. Riley, 
American Thought, pp. 43-53. 

2 For illustrations of the inward peace of the early Christians, see Edge- 
hill, The Spirit of Power, chap. vi. 

3 Dhammapada, vss. 275, 336. 

4 See, e.g., Harvard Theological Review, vol. 7, p. 339. 

5 See, e.g., Horace Fletcher's Forethought minus Fearthought, or R. W. 
Trine's What all the World 's A-Seeking; In Tune with the Infinite. 



212 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

found the way for himself. 1 But Christian Science deserves 
praise for doing more than any other contemporary force to 
turn human lives to the sunlight and banish the shadows 
from their hearts. The therapeutic value of this sunnier 
attitude is great. But Christian Science is more than a 
method of bodily healing, it is a way of bringing inward 
unity and peace into distracted and restless human nature. 
Its insight must be incorporated into the catholic and inclu- 
sive Christianity of the future. 

Charity, Piety, Service: A. Harnack, Mission and Expansion of 
Christianity, bk. n, chap. in. F. J. Peabody, Jesus Christ and the 
Christian Character, chaps, rv-vi; Jesus Christ and the Social Ques- 
tion. H. Drummond, Greatest Thing in the World (in Essays). Har- 
nack and Herrmann, The Social Gospel. J. H. Newman, Love, The 
One Thing Needful (in Parochial and Plain Sermons). J. Royce, 
Problem of Christianity, vol. i, pp. 74-105. E. A. Edghill, The 
Spirit of Power, chap. vn. 

Religious Joy and Peace: J. H. Newman, Religious Joy, Religion 
Pleasant to the Religious (in Parochial and Plain Sermons). G. M. 
Stratton, Psychology of the Religious Life, pt. i. G. B. Cutten, 
Psychological Phenomena of Christianity, chaps m-iv. G. K. Ches- 
terton, Heretics, chap, xvi; Orthodoxy, chap. v. W. James, Varieties 
of Religious Experience, chaps, xvi-xvii. E. Underhill, The Mystic 
Way; Mysticism. W. R. Inge, Christian Mysticism. W. M. Scott, 
Aspects of Christian Mysticism. O. Kuhns, Sense of the Infinite. 

1 Cf. Emerson, History, in Essays, vol. I, "To the poet, to the philos- 
opher, to the saint, all things are friendly and sacred, all events profitable, 
all days holy, all men divine." 



CHAPTER XIV 

THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION 

How shall we determine the essence of religion? 

With this hasty outline of the salient phenomena of 
religion, historical and psychological, before us, we may ap- 
proach the question, What is the essence of religion, and how 
shall we define it? 

We must at the outset realize the impossibility of framing 
a definition of religion that shall cover all of its historic as- 
pects. There lie here before our eyes a confused and ever- 
changing mass of emotions, beliefs, rites, and acts; there is no 
common factor that runs through them all, no one thing that 
all phases of religion have had in common that is not also to 
be found in other spheres of human activity. The religions 
are bound together by a historic development; but our con- 
temporary civilized religion is as different from the religion 
of some barbarous tribe as it is from our own aesthetic life 
or our patriotism. For the matter of that, religion is apt to 
be so bound up with morality, with superstition, art, politics, 
all the other phases of man's life, that it is exceedingly diffi- 
cult to sift out the elements to which its name should be 
given. This is particularly true, of course, of primitive life, 
where the differentiation of activities has not progressed 
far; l but even in our modern life other emotions and activi- 
ties so interpenetrate and blend here and there with religion 
that it is a perplexing problem to draw boundaries and mark 
out its distinctive field. To attempt, then, to make our defi- 

1 Cf . F. de Coulanges, The Ancient City: " Law, government, and religion 
in Rome were three confused aspects of one thing." See, for an elaboration 
of this thought, Shotwell, chap. I. 



214 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

nition inclusive would be, not only to make it so long and 
cumbersome as to be practically useless, but to include ele- 
ments which are not present in all religions, and elements 
which religion shares with other human interests. 

It is easy enough to point out, in the case of any of the 
familiar definitions of religion, that the formula, on the one 
hand, omits much that is conspicuous in historic faiths, or, 
on the other hand, covers acts or attitudes not usually 
thought of as religious. If, for example, we define religion, 
with Mr. Fielding Hall, as "the recognition and cultivation 
of all our highest emotions," l we seem to include in it love, 
patriotism, appreciation of beauty, and the rest. If we define 
it, with Reinach, as " a sum of scruples," 2 we seem to include 
all of our morality, customary and individual. If we define 
it, with Menzies, as " the worship of higher powers," 3 we 
seem to include a mass of barbarous superstitions and 
empty observances which had no value that we should usu- 
ally call religious. And no one of these, or of the thousands 
of other definitions that have been proposed, connotes all of 
the aspects that have in this religion or that been most 
strikingly prominent. 

The search for a common factor tends, moreover, to em- 
phasize what is trivial rather than what is vital. Not by its 
early and crude forms, not by its sodden and uninspired 
devotees, is religion to be judged, but by what it becomes in 
the lives of the prophets and saints. No one who has known 
the loyalty and peace of a deeply religious life can be content 
to think of religion as an emotional debauch, or as a set of 
scruples, or, with Herbert Spencer, as a sense of the ultimate 
inscrutableness of the universe. Mystery and emotion may 
be, as Professor Shotwell says, "constant elements"; they 
may be the connecting links between the primitive welter of 

1 The Hearts of Men, p. 298. 2 Orpheus, p. 2. 

3 History of Religions, p. 7. 



THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION 215 

superstition and a religion worthy of the name. But a sense 
of mystery, or emotional thrills, are not, of themselves, im- 
portant enough; they give no hint of the vital nature of 
mature religion and its value for life. Religion is a growing 
and changing thing; as we think of an oak not in terms of 
what it has in common with the acorn, and man not in 
terms of what he has in common with his ape-like ancestor, 
so we may think of religion not in terms of what it was at this 
or that stage, but in terms of what it has become and bids 
fair to become in its ripest development. 

In fine, the only purpose of offering a definition of religion 
is to pick out from this ever-changing and infinitely various 
segment of human experience what seems most important 
and destined to be permanent. Our definition will be a value- 
judgment, representing what we deem fit to honor with the 
eulogistic term <k religion," what we consider essential, amid 
all these many-colored experiences, for the best human life, 
a norm by which to measure a religion's worth. Such a mat- 
ter is not to be decided by a priori desire or personal preju- 
dice; our decision must be based upon a deep knowledge of 
the world we live in and the needs and conditions of man's 
success therein; upon a sympathetic acquaintance with the 
manifold activities to which the name has been applied, an 
insight into human nature, and a trained ability to distin- 
guish truth from error. What we shall call the heart of reli- 
gion, and what its accretions and unessential concomitants, 
must depend upon what a wide experience teaches us to be 
needful and what a mature criticism shows us to be true. 

What is the relation of religion to theology? 

One of the commonest misconceptions is that which thinks 
of religion as consisting primarily of beliefs — beliefs, in 
particular, about gods, saviors, a future life, or some sort of 
supernatural world enveloping our human experience. Such 



216 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

beliefs may have immense power to comfort and inspire; and 
it is in the midst of them, as its matrix and background, that 
the religious life has, historically, come into being. But shall 
we deny the name "religion" to a life that is, in spirit and 
fruits, the same, when such beliefs are not present? And at 
what point among these infinitely varying beliefs shall we 
draw the line between religion and superstition, or between 
religion and philosophy? Primitive men, and uncultivated 
men still, are full of supernatural beliefs that have no reli- 
gious value whatsoever. Philosophers of every stripe have 
elaborated their convictions upon such matters with no 
appreciable influence upon their lives. Many a man to-day 
believes unquestioningly in God, attends church regularly, 
or fulfills whatever observances he supposes to be required of 
him, who is no more religious than a courtier who pampers 
his sovereign's desires. On the other hand, we have one of 
the greatest of the world's religions, Buddhism, with (in its 
original purity) no God and no immortal hope. And many 
an agnostic among us, with no belief in God or a supernatu- 
ral Christ, and no expectation of heaven, has a truly reli- 
gious temper and lives a truly religious life. 1 

1 Cf. Dickinson, op. ciL, p. 57, 52: "Religion is an attitude of the imag- 
ination and the will, not of the intellect; ... It is possible, it is common, to 
believe in God without having religion; it is less common, but it is not less 
possible, to have religion without believing in God. ... It is not, in a word, 
the doctrine that makes religion, it is the spirit; and the spirit may inspire 
the most diverse and contradictory doctrines." 

And Cf. James Martineau, The Godly Man (in Hours of Thought)'. "If I 
see a man living out of an inner spring of inflexible right and pliant piety; 
if he refuses the colour of the low world around him; if his eye flashes with 
scorn at mean and impure things which are a jest to others; if high examples 
of honour and self-sacrifice bring the flush of sympathy upon his cheek; if 
in his sphere of rule he plainly obeys a trust instead of enforcing an arbi- 
trary will, and in his sphere of service takes his yoke without a groan, and 
does his work with thought only that it be good; I shall not pry into his 
closet nor ask about his creed, but own him at once as the godly man. 
Godliness is the persistent living out an ideal preconception of the Right, 
the Beautiful, the Good." 



THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION 217 

It may, indeed, be said of such religions as ignore or reject 
the concept of God that they have a God under another 
name. Buddhism has practically made a God of Buddha, as 
popular Christianity has of Christ. Richard Jefferies, who 
(in his passionately religious Story of My Heart) indignantly 
scorns the belief in God. speaks constantly of a " something 
higher than Deity." It is obviously a matter of nomencla- 
ture — most men in his case would speak simply of a " higher 
conception of God." Emerson with his Oversoul, Comte 
with his idealized Humanity, and many an avowed atheist 
who serves an abstract Ideal, have a God as truly as the 
naive Christian who pictures an anthropomorphic Being in 
the skies. Something supreme there must be in a religion, 
something to love, reverence, and worship, something that 
awakens man's loyalty and wins his allegiance away from his 
petty affairs. But the intensity of the religious spirit, and its 
worth in a life, have little relation to the particular concept of 
God about which it is entwined. 

May we not agree, then, to give the name "superstition" 
to these supernatural beliefs when they remain the crude 
reflection of blind hopes and fears; to call them philosophical 
or theological beliefs when they have been worked upon by 
the intellect, lifted above the level of folklore, and formu- 
lated into legitimate theories; and to call them religious only 
when they have come to have a moral meaning, giving out- 
ward and cosmic sanction to an inward and natural ideal? 
Religion has too long been defined as a set of beliefs, with its 
spiritual, its ideal aspects treated as a mere corollary or 
addendum. The study of comparative religion has been too 
largely a tabulation of the various gods and their character- 
istics, just as secular history has until lately been little more 
than a list of kings and their doings. The religion itself, that 
swayed the hearts of men and glorified their lives, lies buried 
under all these strange names and grotesque legends. But 



218 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

really it would matter little whether men called their god 
Isis or Bel or Brahma or Zeus or Jupiter or Jehovah; these 
differing names have all meant their acknowledgment of a 
higher supremacy over their animal instincts and selfish pas- 
sions; and what is important is not their beliefs but their 
behavior. Back of all the superstitions and dogmatisms, 
beneath the artificial creeds and the rites that are so often 
strange to our thought, the seeing eye can discern passionate 
aspirations, loyalties, and ideals that roused men from their 
spiritual torpor, steadied their flickering impulses, and made 
their passions flexible to their will. 

" Which has not taught weak wills how much they can? 
Which has not fall'n on the dry heart like rain? 
Which has not cried to sunk, self-weary man, 
Thou must be born again!" * 

Every religion, even the humblest, has had something of 
this noble and uplifting power. From the outside each seems 
a pathetic medley of superstition; but within men's hearts 
each has been in some measure a bulwark against sin, an 
appeal to the finer instincts, a call to a better life. All the 
great religious founders and reformers — Zoroaster, Buddha, 
Confucius, the Hebrew Prophets, Christ, St. Francis, Luther, 
and the rest — were, above all, teachers and exponents of a 
higher and purer way of life. Religion is — the spirit that 
flamed in these men; their cosmological views were but the 
crust that enveloped it, the concepts through which they 
gave it expression. Beliefs change and vanish, theologies 
wax and wane, but the life of charity, consecration, and 
peace remains. Not opinions and not observances are im- 
portant in the end, but purity and honor, tenderness, and 
sympathy, and love. The devotion to these ideals has gone 
hand in hand with every sort of theological belief, has crys- 
tallized into a personal devotion to this or that saint or 
1 Matthew Arnold, Progress. 



THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION 219 

seer, has lifted many a crude and fantastic world-conception 
into the dignity of a religion. 1 

Theology is man's stumbling and blundering attempt to 
express and explain this religious life. Each people, in its 
own language and its own way, has made the attempt; the 
resulting theories have naturally been full of naivete and 
error; and even when they have satisfied men's minds for an 
epoch, they have proved sadly out of accord with the men- 
tal dialect of a later day. " Theology takes the facts of the 
religious experience and codifies and relates them, puts them 
in logical order, gives labels to them, explains their infer- 
ences, and fits this portion of our experience into the whole 
of our lives, sets these facts in their right perspective and 
place in any given view of the world. Theology has the same 
relation to religion that botany has to flowers or that physics 
and chemistry have to the material universe. . . . Theology 
is a philosophy, religion the life which furnishes the material 
for that philosophy. . . . Down through two thousand years 
men have been working at the indubitable and transforming 
facts of the Christian experience. They have tried to state 
those facts in the language of their own generation. They 
have spoken of them, from the point of view of their own 
day. They have related them to the view of the world of 
their time. . . . And meanwhile, men's views of the world 
have been changing. . . . And so you will find it true of 

1 Cf. James, op. cit., p. 505: "When we survey the whole field of re- 
ligion, we find a great variety in the thoughts that have prevailed there; 
but the feelings on the one hand and the conduct on the other are almost 
always the same; for Stoic, Christian, and Buddhist saints are practically 
indistinguishable in their lives. The theories which religion generates, be- 
ing thus variable, are secondary; and if you wish to grasp her essence, you 
must look to the feelings and the conduct as being the more constant 
elements." 

And cf. Emerson, Sovereignty of Ethics (in Lectures and Biographies), "If 
theology shows that opinions are fast changing, it is not so with the con- 
victions of men with regard to conduct; these remain." 



220 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

much of your inherited science of religion, that it will need 
large modifications and restatements. . . . But do not let 
this readjustment of your intellectual apprehension of re- 
ligious truth dim the sense of the reality of that experience 
to which all this science is but the witness and of which it is 
but the expression." l 

Defining religion in terms of life rather than in terms of 
belief makes it not only a much more vital matter and a far 
more universal possession, but puts the attainment of a true 
religion within the reach of humanity. What the actual 
facts were concerning the creation of the world, or the life 
and resurrection of Christ, what the truth is concerning the 
nature of our personalities and their future fate, the nature 
of God and the destiny of the universe, it is not within our 
present resources really to know. We may construct more or 
less probable theories, and stake our lives upon this or that 
hope. But if religion consisted essentially of dogmas of this 
sort, the intellectually scrupulous would be obliged to admit 
it to be merely a set of conjectures or hypotheses. And a 
realization of the infinitely varied beliefs which men have 
actually held on these matters would lead the cultivated and 
sympathetic spectator more and more to an attitude of be- 
wilderment or agnostic neutrality. 2 But it is possible for 

1 Albert Parker Fitch, The College Course and the Preparation for Life, 
pp. 134-40. This statement, from the pen of the president of one of our 
leading theological schools, is a typical expression of the point of view now 
rapidly gaining ground, that religion is essentially a life rather than a belief 
or set of beliefs. The modern terms "philosophy of religion," and "science 
of religion," which are largely displacing the older term "theology," make 
the relation clearer. Theology is a philosophizing about religion. 

2 This step has actually been taken by many who regard religion as a set 
of beliefs. Cf. J. M. E. McTaggart, Some Dogmas of Christianity, pp. 292- 
93: "It follows that no man is justified in a religious attitude except as a 
result of metaphysical study. . . . Since [men] are confronted on all sides 
with religions different from their own, it is inevitable that they should ask 
themselves why they believe their religions to be true. And when the ques- 
tion is once asked, what can avert a widespread recognition that the truth 



THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION 221 

men to contrast different ideals and estimate their relative 
worth; to try different ways of life and know which is best. 
The truth of religion, in our sense of the word, is experi- 
mentally verifiable ; it is 'practical truth. And if we give Chris- 
tianity our allegiance it is because nineteen centuries of 
repeated experience have conclusively shown its insight into 
human needs to be most profound and its Way to be the 
solution for the eternal problem of human life. 

The important thing, then, about a religion is not the 
rationality or irrationality of its intellectual conceptions, but 
the spirituality and vision of its ideals. The lack of ration- 
ality may limit its influence and detract from its power; but 
without the glowing fire of moral idealism it is dead. What 
though creeds and rites are foolish and fanciful, so the spirit- 
ual vision is high and ennobling! Seeing this precious treas- 
ure, which no faith has been utterly without, we may be 
gently tolerant of all theoretical blunders, and of the "old 
clothes " — to use Carlyle's picturesque metaphor — in 
which religion is so commonly wrapped. 

Our generation needs the warning that enlightenment can- 
not take the place of religion. We have learned to under- 
stand the facts of life better than our forefathers; but that 
intellectual gain is but dust and ashes in our mouths if we 
lose the secret of their religious experience. Grim old Puri- 
tans that they were, narrow-minded and bigoted and igno- 
rant of all our science, their picture of history the sheerest 
melodrama, at least their religion had a deep practical 
meaning to them, saved them from much sin, and threw a 
halo about their lives. Again, no normal man can read such 
a book as James's Varieties of Religious Experience without 

of religion can only rest on foundations too controversial to be taken on 
trust, and too obscure for many people to investigate? " 

The opening chapter of this book is a good defense of the conception of 
religion as a set of theological conceptions. 



222 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

perceiving, on the one hand, the grotesqueness and unreality 
of the beliefs of many whose experiences are there related, 
and yet realizing that they had hold of a great secret. The 
unquestionable fact is that religious people have found some- 
thing precious that other folk have missed. And among 
these religious folk are to be counted, not by any means all 
those who have belonged to this church or that, or believed 
this, that, or any creed, but all those who have risen above 
the ordinary, humdrum level of human existence into the 
realm of deeper breathing and brighter vision, all those who 
have felt the power and peace of an altered life. 

What is the relation of religion to morality? 

If religion is to be conceived as a way to live rather than 
as a set of cosmological or historical beliefs, wherein is it 
different from morality? 

Historically speaking, the religions have been something 
more than the moral codes which they incorporated. They 
have framed those codes with some sort of cosmic signifi- 
cance, have invested them with emotional values, and made 
them dynamic. "Merely moral" men are those who have 
been correct in their behavior, but who have failed to see the 
super-personal setting of the restraints which they obeyed, 
have missed the far vistas, the calling forth of loyalty, the 
unction and the joy that religious men have known. The 
moralist approaches the problems of life through intellec- 
tual comprehension, and the result is the life of reason; the 
prophet approaches them through his heart and intuition, 
and the result is religion. Mere morality is prosaic, cool, ex- 
act; religion is imaginative, emotional, exaggerated. Benja- 
min Franklin's maxims are moral, the Sermon on the Mount 
is religious. In religion a cold necessity has become a glorious 
privilege, the latent enthusiasms in a man's heart have been 
awakened; the religious man is he who feels the infinite im- 



THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION 223 

portance of moral choice, the boundlessness and depth of 
duty, and yearns for a noble and sinless life. Morality may 
be a matter of policy or of habit; religion is an inward thing, 
a dedication of heart and will, a positive espousal of ideals. 1 

The Greek philosophers supposed that wisdom alone 
would be enough to steer men aright in their problems of 
conduct. But the rational view of morality developed by 
Plato and Aristotle failed to regenerate the world. Men's 
instincts and passions are too strong; they need to conquer 
emotion by emotion, to be caught up by a great conception 
that can arouse their dormant idealism, awaken their loyalty, 
and make them care for the Way that reason approves but 
leaves so uninviting. Most of our temptations owe their 
appeal to our craving for happiness, for excitement, for 
something great, the quickened heartbeats and deeper 
breathing of a passion given rein. Morality is dull, repres- 
sive, cold; and while we acknowledge its utility, we often 
lack the power to care for and follow its behests. Religion 
satisfies this need, meeting excitement with excitement, joy 
with a purer joy, giving us something bigger and better than 
the temptation from which it turns us. It not only tells a 
man what to do, it pushes him into doing it; it not only sets 
up a code, it gets into a man's heart and saves him. Histori- 
cally, this is what the religions, as contrasted with the mere 
philosophies and moral codes, have done; and any man 

1 Cf. Matthew Arnold, Literature and Dogma, chap. 1, pp. 13, 17: "The 
object of religion is conduct. . . . Religion means simply either a binding to 
righteousness or else a serious attending to righteousness and dwelling upon 
it. Which of these two it most nearly means, depends upon the view we 
take of the words derivation; but it means one of them, and they are very 
much the same. ... Is there, therefore, no difference between what is 
ethical, or morality, and religion? There is a difference, a difference of 
degree. Religion, if we follow the intention of human thought and human 
language in the use of the word, is ethics heightened, enkindled, lit up by 
feeling; the passage from morality to religion is made when to morality is 
applied emotion. And the true meaning of religion is thus, not simply 
morality, but morality touched by emotion." 



224 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

deserves to be called religious by whom an ideal of life has 
been so heartily and loyally espoused that it lifts him, in 
some measure, above the power of temptation to seduce or 
of ill fortune to depress. 1 

A rational study of ethics presents us only with relative 
values; this way, it says, will lead to such and such results, 
this duty is on the whole and in most cases the higher. It 
speaks in terms of probability and approximation; the ideal 
remains for it always problematic and open to doubt. But 
men cannot live by probabilities; success demands definite 
choice. Religion is such a choice; it commits a man, for better 
or worse, to a clear-cut, concrete ideal. It is, as has been 
said, a "great bias." The religious man pledges his alle- 
giance, he no longer weighs and considers, no longer deals 
with advantages and utilities; he obeys the command, 
"Thou shalt not!" he labels the one act Duty and the other 
Sin. The classic Greek ideal was one of moderation; "noth- 
ing in excess" was its motto. And the worldly man of all 
times has sought this via media; as much altruism and hon- 
esty and purity as pays, no more. Not such is the temper of 
the religious man; he is an extremist, quixotic, weighing no 

1 Cf. James, op. cit., pp. 41-51 : "Morality pure and simple accepts the 
law of the whole which it finds reigning, so far as to acknowledge and obey 
it, but it may obey it with the heaviest and coldest heart, and never cease 
to feel it as a yoke. But for religion, in its strong and fully developed mani- 
festations, the service of the highest never is felt as a yoke. Dull submission 
is left far behind, and a mood of welcome, which may fill any place on the 
scale between cheerful serenity and enthusiastic gladness, has taken its 
place. . . . Whereas the merely moralistic spurning takes an effort of voli- 
tion, the Christian spurning is the result of the excitement of a higher kind 
of emotion, in the presence of which no exertion of volition is required. . . . 
If religion is to mean anything definite for us, it seems to me that we ought 
to take it as meaning this added dimension of emotion, this enthusiastic 
temper of espousal, in regions where morality strictly so called can at best 
but bow its head and acquiesce. It ought to mean nothing short of this new 
reach of freedom for us, with the struggle over, the keynote of the universe 
sounding in our ears, and everlasting possession spread before our eyes. . . . 
Religion thus makes easy and felicitous what in any case is necessary." 



THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION 225 

loss against his gain. Christianity demands not a modicum 
of love and purity, but boundless love and absolute purity. 
No man, it says, but is our brother and must be loved to the 
end; no ideal is too high to put up as our goal. By demand- 
ing all, it touches the deepest springs in our nature, opens up 
infinite horizons, gives us a sense of quickened living. 

Another characteristic of religion is its simplicity. Mo- 
rality consists in following a heterogeneous set of precepts; 
religion unifies, gives a single direction and aim. 1 Amid the 
tangle of possibilities and the conflicting calls of impulse it 
points the finger and says, "Do thus and so!" Confused by 
the manifold instincts that his life engenders, beset by insidi- 
ous temptations that he knows not how to resist, the reli- 
gious man gives his allegiance to a definite ideal; though it be 
not ultimately the best, he takes it for his, he devotes his 
heart to it, he makes it a part of himself; and through this 
single-heartedness he solves the problem of his life. 2 

What is the essential nature of religion? 

Religion, in the best sense of the word, is the devotion of 
the heart and will to some great ideal of life. It is the uni- 
versal war against sin and wrong, greatly and imaginatively 
conceived. It is the divine urge in the human breast — "the 
life of God in the soul of man." It summons men from their 
haphazard, animal life, rescues them from their passions, is 

1 Cf. F. Adler, The Essentials of Spirituality: "The spiritually minded 
person [= the religious person] is one who regards whatever he undertakes 
from the point of view of hindering or furthering the attainment of a 
supreme end." 

2 Discussions of the relation between religion and morality, besides those 
of Matthew Arnold and William James from which excerpts have been 
quoted, will be found in G. H. Palmer's Field of Ethics, chap, iv; G. Gallo- 
way's Philosophy of Religion, pp. 195-204; G. T. Ladd's Philosophy of Reli- 
gion, vol. i, chap, xix ; New World, vol. 2, p. 453; American Journal of The- 
ology, vol. 7, p. 259; Harvard Theological Review, vol. 4, p. 229; Hibbert 
Journal, vol. 12, p. 529. 



226 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

never without the sense that they need correction, adjust- 
ment, salvation. Its presence means emancipation from the 
cares and fears of worldliness, release from anxious, bur- 
dened moods, a new tranquillization, poise of spirit, power; 
a widening of horizons, an easing of strain, an inner resource- 
fulness and stability. The individual loses himself in a larger 
life, and thereby finds that life has more dignity and worth 
than the natural man knows. 

Religion, if it is worthy the name, always brings this 
sense of revelation, of profounder insight into the meaning of 
things, a new evaluation and perspective. Its task is "the 
salvation of men through the transformation of a natural 
life into a life whose dwelling-place lies beyond human woe 
and sin." There is a way to live — it has been found over 
and over again by this saint and that — that ennobles life 
and gives it a heavenly radiance; it is of the pathos of human 
existence that so few have caught the vision, so few have 
learned the precious secret that might be the heritage of all. 
But some dim measure of the truth has been grasped and 
passed on from age to age, some glimmers of spiritual in- 
sight, shining through the superstitions and dogmas that 
have enveloped them, giving a certain unity to the varie- 
gated religious practices of men. This core of spiritual life 
at the heart of so many diverse systems — marred as it is by 
many excrescences, mingled with all sorts of blunders and 
illusions, and overlaid by the laborious interpretations of the 
groping intellect — is the essence of religion. 

There are many possible attitudes toward life. A man 
may be cowed and despairing, he may be unemotional, indif- 
ferent, sodden; he may be rebellious, or cynical, or frivolous, 
or melancholy. There is the rake, who makes of life a de- 
bauch ; there is the Epicurean, who makes of it a dainty pur- 
suit of enjoyment; there is the humorist, who makes of it a 
joke. To all these attitudes religion is sharply opposed. The 



THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION 227 

religious attitude, through all its variations, is an earnest, 
aspiring attitude. It seeks to wean men from their hap- 
hazard, hand-to-mouth existence, to save them from the 
satiety and restlessness and heart-hunger that are inevitably 
engendered by selfish arid sensual, and even by trivial and 
flabby, living. Sad it may sometimes be, when confronted 
by the ineffaceable pain and disillusions of life, ecstatic and 
light-hearted it may be in brighter moments; but it is always 
serious, demanding restraint of conduct and discipline of 
will. Goethe, with all his genius, and whatever the strength 
of his theological convictions, was not a religious man, be- 
cause he lived for the exploitation of his passions and the 
gratification of his personal ambitions. Rousseau, with all 
his pious sentiments, was palpably irreligious, because he 
had in his heart no principle of loyalty or consecration that 
even struggled to overcome his animal instincts and worldly 
desires. In sharp contrast with such "carnal" men, the 
great religious seers, from Buddha and Zoroaster to Wesley 
or Phillips Brooks, have been men whose lives have been 
dedicated to a great ideal, and who in its service have found 
daily inspiration and joy. 

It may be thought that this is too simple a matter to con- 
stitute religion. But religion does not exist to persuade men 
to believe something unnatural and a mystery; it exists to 
express and keep before them those natural ideals which 
they do in their better moments believe in, but tend forever 
to forget; to make them, in despite of temptation and inertia 
and willfulness, steadily remember and care for and obey 
them. To reinforce the weak voice of these ideals men need 
to make a religion of them, to devote themselves to their 
commands with ardor, and become possessed by them. Not 
only must the mind be convinced, the heart must be won 
from sin, the imagination must be stirred, the ideal which the 
needs and conditions of our life prescribe must be thought of 



228 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

not as a yoke, to be heavily and grudgingly obeyed, but as a 
vision to be passionately loved and followed. And religion, 
because it does that for man, is the greatest and most beau- 
tiful thing in his life. 

H. B. Mitchell, Talks on Religion, chap. I. E. S. Ames, Psychol- 
ogy of Religious Experience, pt. iv. W. James, Varieties of Religious 
Experience, chaps, i-n. L. Tolstoy, What is Religion? H. HOffding, 
Philosophy of Religion, pp. 105-16. G. Galloway, Philosophy of 
Religion, chap. iv. G. B. Foster, Function of Religion in the Life of 
Man. G. L. Dickinson, Religion, a Criticism and a Forecast, chap, 
m. M. Arnold, Literature and Dogma: Preface, Introduction, chap. 
I. J. H. Leuba, Psychological Study of Religion, pt. i, and Appendix. 
H. F. Hall, Hearts of Men. W. Bender, Wesen der Religion. B. P. 
Bowne, Essence of Religion. J. R. Seeley, Natural Religion, Preface, 
and pt. i. J. Royce, Philosophy of Loyalty, chap. vni. J. M. E. 
McTaggart, Some Dogmas of Religion, chap. I. Emerson, Charac- 
ter, The Preacher, Sovereignty of Ethics (in Lectures and Biographies). 
G. T. Ladd, Philosophy of Religion, vol. i, chap. xxn. B. Russell, 
Philosophical Essays, n. Hibbert Journal, vol. 11, p. 46. Harvard 
Theological Review, vol. 4, p. 229. Monist, vol. 11, p. 536. 



CHAPTER XV 

THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION 

Is Christianity the true religion? 

The traditional conception of Christendom has been that 
it is the only true faith and all others are false; on the one 
hand, a God-given and ultimate religion, on the other, 
nothing but man-made and erroneous superstitions. Such a 
judgment, we have now come to see, was a presumptuous 
and narrow conceit. Christianity is one of several wide- 
spread and inspiring religions, by which men have been 
helped to live and for which they have been ready to die. 
Only Christians are to be "saved"? And Christianity has 
existed less than two thousand years, out of the hundreds of 
thousands since man emerged from the brute! There were 
flourishing civilizations, men and women honorable, pure, 
religious, centuries before Christ, or Jehovah, was ever 
heard of. The old Christian conception of history covers but 
six thousand years in all — and leaves out during that time 
the matchless Greek civilization, spurns the splendid Roman 
order, includes everything but its own local and brief phase 
of history in one sweeping condemnation. Because, for- 
sooth, all these did not worship the Jewish Jehovah! 

If to believe this were Christianity, then Christianity 
would be doomed to speedy extinction. It were too parochial 
an affair, with too small a range of vision, inapplicable to the 
wider stage of human history. This arrogant and perverted 
perspective is out of line with all else that we learn of man 
and his progress, this singularly partial God unworthy of our 
worship; and a dogmatic structure based on this conception, 



230 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

however buttressed by argument, and however full of pre- 
cious consolation to its believers, cannot but fall as men grow 
more enlightened and more humane. Not merely in the two 
thousand years of Christianity, but in some degree in all 
religions and among all races, man's groping spiritual life has 
found expression. 

Yet if all the great religions have truth in them, Christian- 
ity, we may justly claim, has the fullest measure of truth. 
The Christian life, at its best, is the highest type of life pro- 
posed to man; and Christ is humanity's profoundest teacher 
and most fitting guide. The particular concepts and phrase- 
ology of the religion that centers about him, though open to 
narrow misinterpretations and leading often to an unhappy 
dogmatism, are of the deepest and most vital significance. 
The Fatherhood of God, the Holy Spirit in our hearts, the 
Divinity of Christ, the Cross that we must bear, the King- 
dom of Heaven toward which we strive — such language 
represents so adequately the highest yearnings and insights 
of the spiritual life that mankind may well come more and 
more to employ it to express, in appropriate symbols, its 
perennial aspirations and its eternal joys. 1 

1 Cf. S. Reinach, Orpheus (Eng. tr.), p. 232: "Christianity ... is the 
mightiest spiritual force which has ever transformed souls, a force which 
continues to evolve in them. ... It is the morality of the school without a 
school, purified and distilled in ardent souls, with all the charm and all the 
persuasive force of popular conceptions." 

So Loisy, The Gospel and the Church, "The spirit of the Gospel is the 
highest manifestation of the human conscience seeking happiness in just- 
ice." 

And J. Royce, The Problem of Christianity, vol. 1, p. 10-11: "The Chris- 
tian religion is, thus far at least, man's most impressive vision of salvation, 
and his principal glimpse of the home-land of the spirit . . . the most effec- 
tive expression of religious longing which the human race, travailing in pain 
until now, has, in its corporate capacity, as yet been able to bring before its 
imagination as a vision, or has endeavored to translate, by the labor of love, 
into the terms of its own real life." 

For none of these authors is Christianity marked off by supernatural 
revelation from the other religions, or radically different in kind. It is sim- 



THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION 231 

The Gospel of Christ 

To find the essence of Christianity, we must go first, of 
course, to the teachings of Christ, as recorded in the Synop- 
tic Gospels. We need not here repeat the summary of that 
teaching which we made in an earlier chapter. 1 But we may 
pause to point out that subsequent Christianity, though it 
moved far from its founder's spirit in its creeds and cere- 
monies and institutions, yet retained, and retains to this 
day, a bright glow from that original fire. 

Christ's first word was "Repent!" — which meant, not 
"Do penitence!" but "Turn about, live a new kind of life!" 
Men were to care for heavenly, spiritual treasures rather 
than for worldly treasures, to lose their lives in order really 
to find them, to seek to minister rather than to be ministered 
unto. The radicalism of this demand is obscured for us by 
its familiarity; but it was hardly straining the metaphor to 
say, " Except a man be born again he cannot enter the King- 
dom of Heaven." For Paul this need of regeneration was 
symbolized by the Cross — " they that are Christ's have 
crucified the flesh with its passions and lusts"; they must 
die with Christ to the old life and rise with him to the new. 
Paul told also of miraculous occurrences — of the earthly 
life, the resurrection, and the future coming of the Christ. 
But the heart of his gospel was the possibility of a new Life 
for his hearers, the putting off of the old man and putting on 
of the new. " In Christ Jesus neither circumcision availeth 
anything nor uncircumcision, but a new nature." The Church 
has clung throughout all its changing theologies to this fun- 
ply the best of many good religions. For criticisms of Christianity, see 
H. Sturt, The Idea of a Free Church ; H. Holley, The Modern Social Religion 
(Bahaism), pt. iv; G. L. Dickinson, Religion and Immortality, chap, i; W. 
Rauschenbusch, Christianity and the Social Crisis, chap, iv; New World, 
vol. 1, p. 618. 

1 See above, pp. 75-81. 



232 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

damental sense of the need of a radical turnabout from the 
desires and passions of the natural man to the new passions 
and loyalties of the spiritual life. 1 This teaching was foolish- 
ness to the Greeks whom Paul addressed; it is foolishness to 
the worldly-minded to-day. But the accumulating experi- 
ence of nineteen centuries proves, for those who have eyes to 
see, that it is the deepest wisdom. 

But the teaching of Christ was not, as has so often been 
supposed, an other-worldliness, a snatching away of a few 
saved souls from a world left to its fate into a heaven in the 
skies. On the contrary, he prayed that God's will be done on 
earth as in heaven; he foretold, and bade men prepare for, 
the coming divine age when righteousness and peace should 
reign in men's hearts, and injustice, cruelty, and sin should 
be done away. . His faith in and ardor for this new era of a 
bettered human life on earth dominated all his teaching; his 
plea was that there and then his listeners should begin for 
themselves the New Life and form the nucleus of the new 
community. And though we may have to restate them in 
modern language, the same great Hope and the same great 
Duty that flamed in Jesus' gospel can still fire our hearts. 
For the Kingdom is coming now "with observation"; 
though it is not so much a "Lo, here!" or "Lo, there!" that 
reveals it as the long vista of history. Pessimism as to hu- 
man progress is shallow observation; great as is the evil in 

1 Cf. T. H. Green, Two Sermons, pp. 16, 70: "The primary Christian idea 
is that of a moral death into life." "The great concern of the best Christian 
teachers has been ... to bring their people to enact in their own hearts and 
lives the work which the creeds rehearse; not to convince them that Christ 
was miraculously born and died and rose again, but so to affect them as that 
they shall die and rise again with him. ..." And C. Bigg, The Church's 
Task under the Roman Empire, Introduction: "Christianity per genus is a 
religion; per differ entiam it is the religion of the Cross. The Fatherhood of 
God, the immortality of the soul, revelation, sacrifice, prophecy, and law 
are common to many religions. . . . But the Cross is the peculiar property 
of the Gospel. This is the emblem the first Christians adopted." 



THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION 233 

human life, and many as are its setbacks, amelioration is, 
on the whole, a fact beyond dispute. And every Christian 
should work with those who are battling with the forces of 
evil and helping to bring in the new time. 1 

If Christian evangelism and zeal for regenerative work 
derive thus from the Gospel of the Master, so nearly all the 
ideals which the Church has stood for can be found adum- 
brated in his teaching. The summons "Back to Christ!" 
has been the cry of most of the great reformers since his 
time. Humanity is forever losing the vision, thinking to be 
saved by sacraments and outward conformities, drifting 
away from the spiritual insights that the Church exists to 
perpetuate. Men are reading the Gospels less to-day than 
formerly, and in the rush and prosperity of modern life for- 
getting or even despising the simple precepts of the Galilean. 
But outward prosperity is a fickle goddess to worship; and 
even when her favors are constant she leaves the heart 
parched and empty. If we would learn the deepest secrets of 
life we must turn not to the captains of industry, the states- 
men, or even the poets, but to those who have lived in pas- 
sionate loyalty to a religious ideal; and of them all the peer- 
less leader is Christ. 

"We are weak, dragged down by animal instincts and im- 
pulses; helpless often, before the sins which do so easily beset 

1 Cf. J. S. Mill, Theism (end) : "A battle is constantly going on, in which 
the humblest human creature is not incapable of taking some part, between 
the powers of good and those of evil, and in which every even the smallest 
help to the right side has its value in promoting the very slow and often 
almost insensible progress by which good is gradually gaining ground from 
evil, yet gaining so visibly at considerable intervals as to promise the very 
distant but not uncertain final victory of Good. To do something during 
life, on even the humblest scale if nothing more is within reach, towards 
bringing this consummation ever so little nearer, is the most animating and 
invigorating thought which can inspire a human creature; and that it is 
destined, with or without supernatural sanctions, to be the religion of the 
future I cannot entertain a doubt." 



234 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

us: the religious consciousness of Jesus kept him, not only 
pure in deed, but pure in heart. . . . We are selfish, lovers of 
ease, concerned for personal comfort : the religious conscious- 
ness of Jesus held him tranquil when he knew not where to 
lay his head. . . . We are troubled about many things, eager 
for possessions : the religious consciousness of Jesus kept him 
free from the clutch of material things, held him peacefully 
assured that even food and raiment are but things to be 
added unto the true life. . . . We are despondent, morose, 
afraid to be glad: the religious consciousness of Jesus led him 
to rejoice in the beauty of the world, made him no less wel- 
come at the feast than in the house of mourning. We are 
hampered at every turn by conventions, concerned for the 
outside of the platter: the religious consciousness of Jesus 
held ever clearly before him the true values of life. . . . We 
are dull of sight, given to miserable misunderstandings: the 
religious consciousness of Jesus gave him a quick and sure 
insight into the hearts of men and women, so that the com- 
mon people heard him gladly and all the city was gathered 
together at his door. We are bitter, unforgiving, ungenerous : 
the religious consciousness of Jesus enabled him to forgive all 
things, because 'they know not what they do.' We are cow- 
ardly, afraid of suffering, physical and mental, afraid, con- 
tinually, of what may happen : the religious consciousness of 
Jesus rendered him absolutely fearless, capable of defying 
without hesitation a religious conservatism bitterly intoler- 
ant and vindictive, carried him from one danger to another 
with a courage quiet, steady, magnificent. We are cold, in- 
different, unsympathetic : the religious consciousness of Jesus 
filled him with a compassion so profound, so tender, so 
mighty, that the very sound of his voice, and touch of his 
hand, brought healing to the sick in body and in mind. . . . 
In brief, the religious consciousness of Jesus made his life, so 
full of privation, discouragement, and suffering, the life that, 



THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION 235 

whatever may be our creed, we all know in our hearts was 
the life preeminently worth living." i 

The Christian religion, whatever of new insight it may 
add to its gospel from age to age, as it develops and adjusts 
itself to the changing conditions of man's existence, must 
ever go back to its source, the life and teachings of Jesus, and 
make the spirit that was there so gloriously manifested the 
heart of its message. 

The Gospel about Christ 

Not a few have maintained that the real Christianity is 
simply — the teachings of Christ. Whatever is not there 
found is an extraneous addition to the religion which should 
be stripped off, that it may shine in its original purity. To 
such a plea we may all, with considerable sympathy, re- 
spond; whatever, certainly, is alien to the spirit of the Mas- 
ter should find no place in a church that calls itself by his 
name. That admission would shear from the Church its reli- 
ance upon sacraments and forms, its insistence upon ortho- 
doxy, and many another corruption abhorrent to his spirit. 
But, on the other hand, we must recognize that man's prob- 
lems change from age to age, his knowledge widens, and his 
needs develop. If any religion is to be permanent and uni- 
versal in its appeal and in its help, it must keep pace with 

1 The Religion of Christ in the Twentieth Century, pp. 176-80, abridged. 
Cf. also R. E. Spear, in Constructive Quarterly, vol. 1, pp. 544-45: "My 
thesis is that in our search for the essential and constructive principles of 
Christianity, we can get more help from foreign missions than from any 
other source. . . . Foreign missions embody the elements of Christianity 
which are essential to its life. . . . They are the present expression of the 
primitive Christian spirit fresh from its first contact with God in Christ. To 
go straight to the heart of the matter, they are the purest embodiment of 
the spirit of absolute loyalty to duty and of utterly unselfish love. And 
these are the two highest characteristics of the life of our Lord, and there- 
fore of the Christian mind. They were the two commandments of the Law 
when the Law had passed through the alembic of his soul who fulfilled it. 
They were the emphatic notes of his own doctrine." 



236 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

this evolution and develop pari passu with these needs. An 
evolution of this sort there has, in fact, been. The Christian- 
ity of the Greek fathers was very different, in many ways, 
from the gospel of Christ, mediaeval Christianity still more 
different; and our modern Christianity, although in its "lib- 
eral" phases harking back to considerable extent to the 
earliest form of the faith, yet includes elements foreign to 
Christ's own mind and preaching. And this is as proper as 
it is inevitable; it is the churches that have changed and 
grown that have been most alive and imparted most life to 
their members. We must not confuse the question, What is 
Christianity? with the question, What was primitive Chris- 
tianity? The Christian religion is a living reality now, and 
entitled to definition in terms not merely of what it was at 
the outset, but of what it has since become. 1 

The most conspicuous element that has been added by the 
Church to the teaching of Jesus is, of course, the Christologi- 
cal element, its recognition of him as the great Revealer of 
God and spiritual truth, and its reverent devotion to him. 
Jesus himself — in spite of the picture of him drawn, in a 
later day, in the Fourth Gospel — did not go about preach- 
ing his own importance or teaching a doctrine of his own 
nature. He talked not of himself but of his ideals for men, 
and of the blessed time to come when those ideals should be 
realized on earth. Nevertheless, to the Way of Life taught 
by him there was bound to be added an interpretation of 
his life and mission; to the gospel of Christ a gospel about 
Christ. And this has been an indispensable part of the reli- 
gion ever since. 

The importance of the emphasis upon Christ himself — 
rather than upon the abstract truth of his teaching — lies in 
the fact that abstract truths lack power to move the average 

1 Cf. S. J. Case, Evolution of Early Christianity, chap, i: "The Develop- 
mental Nature of Christianity." 



THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION 237 

man; he needs something concrete and visible, he finds God 
chiefly in men, the best men he knows. Such hero-worship 
is one of the most potent of upbuilding forces; through the 
contemplation of their ideal as actually wrought into earthly 
life in Christ many a man has been saved from sin who would 
have remained indifferent to the bare teaching itself. Christ 
was what we long to be; the goodness, the purity and power 
and peace, that was in him is the ideal of Christianity. In 
him the word became flesh, the ideal became incarnate. And 
so the central point in the religion is not a set of abstract 
ideals but a living, glowing, appealing personality. Christi- 
anity is, and will always be, for most men, primarily a per- 
sonal loyalty to Christ. 1 

It is true that — judged a priori, and apart from the act- 
ual course of history — some other spiritual leader might 
have been idealized by his followers and subsequent genera- 
tions, and become our banner-bearer and inspiration. There 
is something arbitrary about this exclusive devotion to one 
man, however pure and however great. But by a conjunction 
of historical events he has become the one about whom the 
ideals of humanity have clustered; he has become a summa- 
tion and apotheosis of all human virtues. And it is he who 

1 Cf. Professor D. C. Macintosh, of Yale School of Religion: "Christian- 
ity is the religion of discipleship to Jesus." And Professor G. W. Knox, of 
Union Theological Seminary, " Christianity in its broadest definition is the 
religion of all those who call Jesus Lord." And E. Lewis, in The Atlantic, 
vol. 114, p. 735 : " That which distinguishes the Christian religion from every 
other is the supreme position it gives to a personality and a personal ideal 
once actually incarnated in terms of human life and character, and the cen- 
tral emphasis it places upon identification with the spirit of the Master as 
the determinant of conduct in the professed disciple." 

And cf . Carlyle, Heroes and Hero-Worship : The Hero as Divinity : " No 
nobler feeling than this of admiration for one higher than himself dwells in 
the breast of man. It is to this hour, and at all hours, the vivifying influ- 
ence in man's life. Religions I find stand upon it; not Paganism only, but 
far higher and truer religions, — all religion hitherto known. Hero-worship, 
heartfelt prostrate admiration, submission, burning, boundless, for a noblest 
godlike Form of Man, — is not that the germ of Christianity itself?" 



238 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

was actually the spring and source of the movement that 
spread a spiritual religion over the weary and wicked world 
of the West, lighted a flame of aspiration and joy and hope, 
amid dark and troubled times, that has changed the face of 
civilization and bids fair to change it far more in the future. 
And if we consider not only what his life and death effected, 
but what he himself was, if we catch the vision of his inward 
purity and outward sweetness, his freedom from bondage to 
the orthodoxy of his time, his fearless obedience to his domi- 
nating purpose in a hostile environment, the steadfastness 
with which he kept true to it even at the cost of his life, we 
shall confess him a fitting model for our contemplation and 
founder for our Church. 1 

But we must insist that to believe in Christ is, essentially, 
to believe that he is our fitting master, that we should live as 
he lived. 2 Our Christological theories matter little; what 
matters is that we should take up our cross and follow him. 
That, at least, and not any particular belief about him, was 
what he asked of men. Those that were to enter the King- 
dom were not those that called him "Lord, Lord! " but who- 
ever obeyed the Divine will. 3 Blasphemy against him was to 
be forgiven; it was only blasphemy against the holy spirit 
itself that was the hopeless sin. 4 So long as men are turned 
to the right life it matters little whether they recognize or 
not the sources of their healing and inspiration; a "Christless 
Christianity," if men would actually live it, would be infi- 

1 Cf. C. F. Dole, in Theology at the Dawn of the Twentieth Century, p. 250: 
"Reserving all matters of dissent and criticism, it remains that Jesus stands 
as the historical type, as well as the teacher, of a new order of human life. 
. . . Grant that these teachings were not original with Jesus. Nevertheless, 
he is the conspicuous figure of the man who adopted them, trusted them, 
and went to his death for their sake. The teachings took his name, because 
somehow he contrived to give them reality and working power." 

2 Cf. E. Lewis, loc. cit., "Faith in Jesus is self -identification with him in 
the spirit and practice of life." 

3 Matt. 7 : 21. ' Matt. 12 : 32. Luke 12 : 10. 



THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION 239 

nitely better than a devout belief in Christ which bore little 
fruit in conduct. But actually it has been the personal figure 
of Christ, blessing the little children, healing the sick, firing 
the hearts of his disciples, facing the bigoted priests, and dy- 
ing on the Cross, that has brought poignantly home to men 
the ideals for which he lived and died. And the Church has 
done well to cling, through all its permutations of doctrine 
and practice, to its allegiance to the person of its Founder. 

The Christian life and Christian creeds 

The early Christians called their religion not a belief but a 
Way. 1 According to the Fourth Gospel, Christ came that 
men might have life, and life more abundantly. So Origen 
speaks of "the life that Jesus taught." The help that he 
gave — and that we most imperiously need — was a prac- 
tical help, an insight into the true values of life and a method 
of attaining them. This gospel came to be clothed in the 
concepts of current Greek thought and enshrined in an or- 
ganization of Roman lineage. But "creedless Christianity is 
older than any creeds." And that the gospel requires no 
particular world-view for its acceptance is proved by the 
fact that it has persisted and leavened human life through 
the profoundest changes in outlook and belief. The simplic- 
ity of Jesus and his early followers was the high-water-mark 
of Christianity; for them the Life was more and the doctrine 
less than in the subsequent history of the Church. After- 
ward dogmas grew up, varying from century to century, but 
always standing more or less in the way of free acceptance 
of the Life. Yet through all these changes Christianity has 
preserved some measure of its initial insight and evaluations. 
The Weltanschauung of Christ, of Paul, of Tertullian, of 
Athanasius, of St. Augustine, of Thomas Aquinas, of Calvin, 
of Phillips Brooks, of Martineau, were as widely different as 

1 Cf. Acts 9:2; 19:23. 



240 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

can well be imagined; but for them all the Life was essen- 
tially the same. This ideal of life, together with a personal 
allegiance to him who taught it, is what all Christians have 
in common. 

From time to time reformers have arisen who have sought 
to remove some of the crust of speculation from the preach- 
ing of the Christian Life. In our generation, after an era of 
keen theological disputation, the current is again setting 
toward the spiritual conception of religion; and the Church 
is putting its emphasis upon charity and purity and service. 
But always beneath its forbidding formularies and elaborate 
theologies it has kept alive a spark of the spirit of brother- 
liness and earnest consecration that inspired its Master, 
Christ, that glowed in the bosom of Paul and the apostles, 
that led St. Francis out to nurse the sick and dying, that has 
lifted many a humble and uncultivated man to a level above 
that of Caesar or Napoleon. Read the Nicene or the Atha- 
nasian Creed, and Christianity will appear to be a sort of in- 
tellectual jugglery; look at the lives of the faithful, and you 
will see Christianity in its true essence and ultimate signif- 
icance, as the life of the spirit, illuminating men's troubled 
hearts, bringing them inward power and peace. 

"The first Christian associations were formed on a basis 
which was less intellectual than moral and spiritual. ... It 
was a fellowship of a common ideal and a common enthusi- 
asm of goodness, of neighborliness, and of mutual service, of 
abstinence from all that would arouse the evil passions of 
human nature, of the effort to crush the lower part of us in 
the endeavor to reach after God. ... It is even possible that 
the baptismal formula may have consisted, not in an asser- 
tion of belief, but in a promise of amendment." But "the 
flocking into the Christian fold of the educated Greeks and 
Romans, who brought with them the intellectual habits of 
mind which dominated in the age, gave to the intellectual 



THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION 241 

element an importance which it had not previously possessed. 
Agreement in opinion, which had been the basis of union in 
the Greek philosophical schools, and later in the Gnostic 
societies, now came to form a new element in the bond of 
union within and between churches. . . . The insistence on 
that intellectual basis . . . checked the progress of Christian- 
ity. Christianity has won no great victories since its basis 
was changed." l 

Who is the true Christian? 

A Christian is — any one who is consciously a follower 
of Christ, who looks to Christ as his pattern and guide, 
and sincerely tries to live the Christ-life — the life of self- 
surrender and purity and love, the life that aims not to be 
ministered unto but to minister — in the midst of a selfish 
and sensual world. 

The Christian will naturally wish to know what can now 
be known of God, and Christ, the human soul and its des- 
tiny; and he will gladly profess publicly his belief in what ap- 
pears to him to be the truth. But Christ imposed no creedal 
test; rather, he had scant consideration for the orthodoxy of 
his times, and flung to men the question, " Why judge ye not 
of yourselves what is right?" So the Christian need know 
nothing of theology, hold no particular conception of the 
person of Christ, and bind himself to no creed. 

The Christian will probably find inspiration for himself 
and be able best to help others by allying himself with one of 
the churches that have grown up about the name of Christ; 
and he will glory in open confession of his discipleship to the 
Master. But Christ founded no organization, and offered 
salvation to men not through sacraments or church-going 
but through repentance and espousal of the New Life. So 

1 E. Hatch, The Influence of Greek Ideas and Usages on the Christian 
Church, pp. 335-49, abridged. 



242 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

the Christian need belong to no church; and if he does pin 
one of the churches he will look upon his membership therein 
not as in itself constituting him a Christian but only as a 
means to quicken his spiritual life and enable him the better 
to serve his fellows. 

The one essential requirement of the Christian is that he 
heed the admonition of the Apostle, "Let him that nameth 
the name of Christ depart from iniquity!" And yet, if he is 
conscious that he has sinned, if he despairs of his strength to 
keep pure and loyal, he will remember that Christ came to 
save that which was lost, called his followers from among 
just such sinful men, and bade his disciples forgive seventy 
times seven times. Whoever is sincerely repentant for past 
faults, is ready to take up his cross again and follow Christ, 
is willing to fight on against the sensual nature within him 
and to think most not of himself but of others, may, humbly 
but proudly, take to himself the name of Christian. 

W. A. Brown, Essence of Christianity. C. C. Everett, The Dis- 
tinctive Mark of Christianity (in Essays, Theological and Literary). 
A. Sabatier, Outlines of the Philosophy of Religion, bk. n, chap. n. 
Anon., Religion of Christ in the Twentieth Century (Putnam's, 1906). 
A. Harnack, What is Christianity? Christianity and History. 3. 
Royce, Problem of Christianity, vol. i. B. W. Bacon, Christianity 
Old and New. L. Feuerbach, Essence of Christianity. A. Loisy, 
Gospel and the Church. G. Tyrrell, Christianity at the Crossroads. 
W. Rauschenbusch, Christianity and the Social Crisis. W. Bousset, 
What is Religion, chap. vn. B. H. Streeter, Restatement and Re- 
union, chap. i. W. H. P. Faimce, What Does Christianity Mean, 
chap. i. Hibbert Journal, vol. 11, p. 717. New World, vol. 1, p. 401 ; 
vol. 9, p. 246. American Journal of Theology, vol. 16, p. 256. Har- 
vard Theological Review, vol. 7, p. 16. Biblical World, vol. 44, p. 398. 



SUMMARY OF PART II 

What function does religion have in the life of man? 

Life may be said to consist broadly of two activities, the 
adjustment of things to ourselves and the adjustment of 
ourselves to things; the former is the object of all practical 
work, the latter is the object of religion. If men are to live in 
any safety and comfort much labor must be performed upon 
the outer world; nature must be subdued and refashioned to 
become adapted to man's needs. But this is not all. When 
the highest degree of physical security and material luxury 
is wrested from mother earth, when knowledge is won and 
art developed, there remain sources of dissatisfaction and 
distress. That residuum in the nature of things which man 
cannot change confronts him and warns him that his human 
nature too must be tamed and reshaped if he is to attain to a 
sure and abiding happiness. 

Thus, religion is not a merely adventitious source of satis- 
faction, an extra solace tacked on to life; it is a psychological 
necessity. In the broad and natural sense in which we are 
now using the word, every man must be religious if his life 
is to be a complete success. Beset as he is by warring and 
unwise impulses, surrounded by other human beings with 
wants and wills of their own, confronted by the obdurate 
facts of pain and separation and death, he must learn to 
weed out and harmonize his desires, to adjust his will to the 
welfare of those about him, and to set his heart upon such 
things that the uncertainties of life cannot take away his joy 
in living and plunge him into despair. To these fundamental 
and irremovable aspects of life he must adapt himself; he 



244 PSYCHOLOGICAL 

must struggle till lie attain to the life of purity, the life of 
love, the life of peace. 

The necessary adjustment of life to its conditions is made 
when we have attained a harmony of our impulses with one 
another, with the wills of other people, and with the fortune 
that befalls us. By enlisting men's devotion to such ideals, 
by teaching a way of life that can save them from sensual- 
ity and sin, unite them in brotherhood and mutual service, 
and lift them above sorrow, religion has, for those who have 
really grasped its secret, proved a solution of the great 
problem of life. From the cold necessity of obedience to 
moral laws and of self -repression religion leads men to a love 
of righteousness and purity; from an enforced tribal loyalty 
and a legally prescribed justice religion lifts them to a love of 
their fellows, to a genuine unselfishness and charity; from a 
mere stunned submission to fortune or defiance of its injuries, 
religion lifts them to the peace that comes from complete 
self -surrender in the service of the Ideal. This disposition of 
the heart and will, through which a man comes to care for 
the highest things and to live in gentleness and inward calm 
above the surface aspects and accidents of life, we call, in its 
inner nature, Spirituality; when it is embodied in outward 
forms and institutions, and spreads among whole commu- 
nities, we call it a religion. 

This spiritual significance is to be found in some degree 
in all the religions, but in the fullest and highest expression 
only in Christianity. Christianity seeks to turn men from 
the life of impulse and selfishness to the larger and holier 
life; and the turning it calls Conversion. Often the change of 
heart is brought about only by long struggle and repeated 
endeavor. But not infrequently it is effected better, at a 
certain critical point, by grasping the higher life through the 
imagination, and claiming it, though yet unrealized, as an 
actual possession. This process orthodox Christianity calls 



SUMMARY OF PART II 245 

Salvation by Faith; or rather, this is the vital experience 
underlying the dogma which has grown up under that name. 
Faith, thus, in its highest and moral sense, is the believing 
in and holding on to an ideal of life against all the tempta- 
tions and foreshortening illusions of the senses. Conversion 
is the soul's initial acceptance of that life, and Faith is its 
retention of grasp upon it when the push of lower interests 
makes it seem far away and unreal. 

The function of religion is then, in a word, to create in men 
a clean heart and renew a right spirit within them. Chris- 
tianity is the greatest of the religions because it has held up 
the highest ideal of life and furnished the greatest dynamic 
for its realization. 



PART III 
PHILOSOPHICAL 



CHAPTER XVI 

THEOLOGICAL METHOD AND THE SCIENTIFIC SPIRIT 

So far in our study we have been content for the most part 
to describe the facts of religious experience without seeking 
to draw inferences therefrom. We have now to consider the 
more important of the great mass of theological beliefs, 
whose existence is due, primarily, to the attempt to relate 
and explain those experiences. And first we must glance, in 
turn, at the three sharply contrasting methods by which men 
have constructed and justified their theologies : the interpre- 
tation and elaboration of pronouncements taken as unques- 
tionably authoritative, the manipulation of concepts and 
derivation from them of a 'priori truths supposed to hold 
good of the outer world, and the observation of facts and 
formulation of inductive generalizations that offer shorthand 
descriptions of them. 

The three methods of theology 

I. Authority. Truth may be hit upon in many ways — by 
intuition or clever guessing, by accepting the statements of 
others, by short cuts of all kinds. But these are also ways of 
acquiring error, and are not of guaranteed trustworthiness. 
So man has long sought some certain warrant of truth, some 
reliable method upon which he can stake his belief and con- 
duct. The earliest method, and one that still retains the 
allegiance of a large proportion of religious people, is that of 
setting up some book or human voice as the agent of a divine 
revelation and therefore of indubitable authority; whatever 
can be deduced from these supernaturally warranted pro- 



250 PHILOSOPHICAL 

nouncements may be held with an assurance to which men can 
in no other way attain. We have already spoken of the proc- 
ess by which during the lapse of centuries an anthology of 
Hebrew writings, and later of early Christian writings, came 
to be invested with a peculiar sanctity and authority; and 
then of the steps by which the Roman Catholic hierarchy 
came to arrogate to itself the right to interpret those sacred 
books and formulate for universal acceptance the truths 
which they contained. The Church assumed to guard the 
deposit of faith and to define it more and more clearly as 
questions arose, dubbing all new ideas, not therein con- 
tained, as heretical and false. But actually it read into its 
oracles much that could not by an impartial exegesis be 
found therein, and developed new dogmas according to the 
exigencies of its situation. So successfully did the Church 
maintain its position, in the West, that the pious declared, 
with St. Augustine, "I should not believe the Gospel if the 
authority of the Church did not so decide me." 

We cannot do better, in seeking to grasp this dogma of an 
infallible Church, than to quote from an official pronounce- 
ment. In the "Dogmatic Constitution of the Catholic 
Faith," adopted by the Council of 1870, "The Holy Mother 
Church holds that God can be known with certainty by the 
natural light of human reason, but that it has also pleased 
Him to reveal Himself and the eternal decrees of His will in a 
supernatural way. This supernatural revelation, as declared 
by the Holy Council of Trent, is contained in the books of 
the Old and New Testament. . . . These have God for their 
author, and as such have been delivered to the Church. And, 
in order to restrain restless spirits, who may give erroneous 
explanations, it is decreed — renewing the decision of the 
Council of Trent — that no one may interpret the sacred 
Scriptures contrary to the sense in which they are inter- 
preted by Holy Mother Church, to whom such interpreta- 



THEOLOGICAL METHOD AND THE SCIENTIFIC SPIRIT 251 

tion belongs. All those things are to be believed which are 
written in the word of God, or handed down by Tradition, 
which the Church by her teaching has proposed for belief. 
No one can be justified without this faith; nor shall any one, 
unless he persevere therein to the end, attain everlasting life. 
Hence God, through His only-begotten Son, has established 
the Church as the guardian and teacher of His revealed word. 
. . . We therefore pronounce false every assertion which is 
contrary to the enlightened truth of faith. . . . For the doc- 
trine of faith revealed by God has not been proposed, like 
some philosophical discovery, to be made perfect by human 
ingenuity, but it has been delivered to the spouse of Christ 
as a divine deposit, to be faithfully guarded and unerringly 
set forth. Hence, all tenets of holy faith are to be explained 
always according to the sense and meaning of the Church; 
nor is it ever lawful to depart therefrom under pretense or 
color of a more enlightened explanation." r 

Pleasant and soothing as this doctrine is, the "restless 
spirits" that the Church has tried to drug into acquiescence 
would not be so restrained; and the vast majority of edu- 
cated men the world over have become convinced that the 
pretensions of the Church to a special revelation of truth are 
unwarranted. One has but to look at the beliefs which the 
Church has declared true! One has but to see the palpable 
errors of fact in the Book which she holds up as infallible! 
For example, for the writers of the Bible, and so for the 
Catholic Church, the earth was a flat disk about which the 
sun revolved, the sky a dome, with openings through which 
the rain descended, and above which was heaven, where God 
dwelt and whither the saved arose after death. The naive 
account in Genesis holds to this primitive view; and the 
story of the Ascension of Christ, in the opening chapter of 

1 For an eloquent defense of this position, see J. H. Newman's Apologia 
pro Vita Mea. 



252 PHILOSOPHICAL 

Acts, presupposes it. Every one knows how bitterly the 
Church antagonized the rival Copernican system, how Gali- 
leo was tried and Bruno burned. This is one of the most 
familiar instances of the naivete and falsity of the suppos- 
edly supernatural revelation which the Church has proffered. 
But there is scarcely a scientific truth of importance which 
has not contradicted some part of her teaching and been 
opposed in the name of her "deposit of Divine truth." The 
facts of evolution have had to be rejected because they con- 
flict with her doctrine of the Creation; the discoveries of 
anthropology and archaeology and geology concerning the 
antiquity of the earth and of man flatly contradict her 
chronology; and a recognition of the validity of historical 
criticism is incompatible with her dogmas as to the author- 
ship and dates of the Bible documents — dogmas which, in 
many instances, unprejudiced historians have with one voice 
declared absurd. In view of this obviously and grossly false 
nature of so much of her declared "revelation," we cannot 
base our theological structure upon any such supposed cer- 
tainties; we must find some other avenue to truth. 

II. A priori reasoning. From the beginning of the 
Church's life, even when the possession of a supernatural 
source of revelation was unquestioned, Christian apologists 
sought to justify their beliefs by the use of the unaided in- 
tellect; system after system was constructed based on pure 
reason. One such system became standardized during the 
Middle Ages; we call it the "Scholastic Theology," and find 
its most elaborate expression in the Summa Theologiw of 
Thomas Aquinas. But this is simply the system which the 
Catholic Church accepted. Multitudes of equally ingenious 
and convincing — or unconvincing — systems have been 
spun out of the brains of closet philosophers; the attempt to 
reach theological truth through the use of the mind's inner 
resources, its logical powers and innate intuitions, has re- 



THEOLOGICAL METHOD AND THE SCIENTIFIC SPIRIT 253 

suited in such diverse world-views as those of Anselm, Spi- 
noza, Leibnitz, Kant, Hegel, Bradley, and Royce. There is no 
need of refuting any of these systems — they refute one 
another. Since the publication of Bacon's Novum Organum, 
this whole method of seeking truth by a priori reasoning has 
become more and more discredited. No system has received 
widespread recognition — except that which was favored by 
the official support of the Church. No results from this 
method have passed into our common knowledge. 

Particularly from British and American thinkers has come 
the refutation of the claims of a priori reasoning to objective 
validity. Locke, in his famous Essay concerning Human 
Understanding y 1 pointed out that "universal propositions of - 
whose truth or falsehood we can have certain knowledge 
concern not existence. . . . These universal and self-evident 
principles, being only our constant, clear, and distinct knowl- 
edge of our own ideas . . . can assure us of nothing that 
passes without the mind. . . . That any or what bodies do 
exist, that we are left to our senses to discover to us as far as 
they can." Mill wrote, in his Logic, 2 "A large proportion of 
the erroneous thinking which exists in the world proceeds on 
a tacit assumption that the same order must obtain among 
the objects in nature which obtains among our ideas of 
them." More recently we have Pearson speaking with scorn 
of the method "which does not start with the classification 
of facts, but reaches its judgments by some obscure process 
of internal cogitation . . . and results, as experience shows 
us, in an endless number of competing and contradictory 
systems." 3 And William James tells us, 4 "By the ancients, 
a priori propositions were considered, without further ques- 

1 Bk. iv, chap, vn, sec. 14. 

2 Bk. v, chap. in. See also bk. n, chap, v, sec. 6; and chap, vii, sees. 1-4; 
Examination of Sir William Hamilton s Philosophy, chaps, vi and xxvin. 

' K. Pearson, Grammar of Science, chap. I, sec. 6. 
4 Principles of Psychology, vol. n, p. 664. 



254 PHILOSOPHICAL 

tion, to reveal the constitution of Reality. Archetypal 
things existed, it was assumed, in the relations in which we 
had to think them. The mind's necessities were a warrant 
for those of Being. . . . But . . . the eternal verities which 
the structure of our mind lays hold of do not necessarily lay 
hold on extra-rnental being; nor have they, as Kant pre- 
tended later, a legislating character even for all possible ex- 
perience. They are primarily interesting only as subjective 
facts." 

The truth is, these systems are far more a result of uncon- 
scious assumption and mental bias than of logic. One after 
another has been enthusiastically worked out, only to have 
its fallacies exposed and be rejected by other thinkers. But 
ever new systems arise to replace the old. Thus to argue 
against dogmatic theology is a guerrilla warfare; every posi- 
tion in turn is taken, but the enemy forever eludes capture. 
It would require a library to hold all the dogmatic systems 
and their refutations; and were all to have their inadequacies 
painstakingly exposed, new systems would spring up to- 
morrow. Xor can any counter-argument, without endlessly 
tedious expansion, be made so complete that the theologian 
cannot find some gap or pick some verbal flaw, and so, by dis- 
crediting the refutation, seem to reestablish the presumption 
in favor of his argument. It is not worth while, then, except 
for practice in analysis and exact thinking, to bother with 
picking these a priori systems to pieces. Of far more impor- 
tance is it to point out the proved validity of another method 
of truth-seeking, and by stimulating a loyalty to that scien- 
tific method, to overcome evil with good. 

III. The scientific method. The spirit of all true science 
can be epitomized by the Biblical summons, "Come and 
see!" It never seeks to impose antecedent conceptions; it 
lets things "tell their tale in their own way." Absolutely 
faithful to observed facts, letting them suggest their own 



THEOLOGICAL METHOD AND THE SCIENTIFIC SPIRIT 255 

laws, describing them impartially, as they are, and never 
picking out or emphasizing those particular facts which bol- 
ster a desired conclusion, distrusting all authority which 
observable facts do not corroborate, not seeking first to con- 
struct a system and then looking for evidence to support it, 
but following with a delicate responsiveness the leading of 
the evidence, and abiding by its dictates — such is the tem- 
per by which science is slowly conquering human ignorance. 
There is but one way to learn what are the facts in any de- 
partment of human life. A priori assumptions cannot ascer- 
tain them, pious aspiration cannot mould them according 
to its desire, postulates imperiously demanding that the uni- 
verse conform to our needs or cravings cannot produce them. 
Only by studying experience concretely, observing it with 
painstaking exactness, freeing ourselves from bias, from pre- 
conceived opinions and wishes in the matter, and making 
with due caution generalizations that shall include all the 
observed facts and contradict none, can we be sure that we 
have what is really knowledge and not mere speculation. 
This is the scientific method; and the keeping to it is the 
scientific spirit. 1 

1 Cf. Boutroux (Eng. tr.), p. 352: "The special mark of the scientific 
spirit is shown in unwillingness to admit any starting-point for research, 
any source of knowledge, other than experience." Pearson, chap. I. : "The 
classification of facts and the formation of absolute judgments upon the 
basis of this classification — judgments independent of the idiosyncrasies of 
the individual mind — essentially sum up the aim and method of modern 
science. . . . The classification of facts, the recognition of their sequence and 
relative significance, is the function of science; and the habit of forming a 
judgment upon these facts unbiassed by personal feeling is characteristic of 
what may be termed the scientific frame of mind." Wenley, p. 59: "Free, 
with complete freedom to inquire into anything, man is as completely 
bound — bound to abide by discernible testimony. Of such is the spirit of 
science." G. B. Foster, Finality of the Christian Religion, p. 190: "The new 
method may be expressed in one word: observation. Formerly science was 
a captive of dogma; now it is a captive of nature. . . . Formerly one sub- 
jected reality to the categories of the understanding; now one subjects the 
understanding in sovereign obedience to facts. Formerly one said things 



256 PHILOSOPHICAL 

Not all students of science actually follow this ideal of 
open-mindedness and impartial recording of the evidence. 
But such is the recognized ideal of science, such is the way 
in which it has won its successes; where it is not earnestly 
espoused there is no possibility, except by mere chance, of 
arriving at truth. Scientists make mistakes, observe inaccu- 
rately, generalize incautiously; scientific books are not al- 
ways free from prejudice and passion. But the essence of 
science lies in this, that its calculations are always open to 
correction, its inferences are open and above board; if the 
evidence does not warrant them, that fact will soon become 
clear. Science is not a fixed doctrine, it is a spirit; and in this 
spirit lies man's hope for knowledge. In those fields where 
the emotions and loyalties least enter in, science has won 
general allegiance; only the hopelessly ignorant set up their 
superstitions against the authority of the latest textbooks of 
astronomy or physics. But it is as yet sadly different with 
philosophy, politics, and religion. Books widely read and 
applauded do little more than "confuse problems and cari- 
cature investigation." With much brilliant and eloquent 
writing on these matters, there is still little that is scrupu- 
lously cautious, clings to observable facts, and is actuated 
by a truly scientific spirit. Yet to a scientific study of these 
most vital of matters we must come, even if it mean the 
relinquishment of former assurances and the recognition of 
the narrow limits of our knowledge. We must be willing to 
give up "sweet comforts false, worse than true wrongs," 
throw overboard our most obstinate convictions, subject the 

must be so, therefore they are so; now one says things are what they are, 
and one looks at them and into them to see what they are." And Seeley, 
p. 9 : "The scientific spirit is simply a jealous watchfulness against that ten- 
dency of human nature to read itself into the Universe, which is both natu- 
ral to each individual and may mislead the greatest investigators, and which 
can only be controlled by rigorously adhering to a fixed process, and rigidly 
verifying the work of others by the same." 



THEOLOGICAL METHOD AND THE SCIENTIFIC SPIRIT 257 

facts of the religious life to the same critical scrutiny that we 
should give to astronomical phenomena, and build our theol- 
ogy upon a strictly empirical basis. Only so shall we find it 
built upon a rock, and able to survive the doubts and ques- 
tionings of an increasingly scientific age. We shall have less 
truth for a while than we thought we had; but in the end we 
shall have more, and what we have will be as universally ac- 
knowledged and believed as the conclusions of the physical 
sciences. The use of unscientific methods only discredits 
theology and postpones, by putting us on the wrong track, 
the attainment of actual knowledge. 

Fortunately the last few decades have witnessed a note- 
worthy change of attitude on the part of the younger theo- 
logians; and the time seems not far distant when a scientific 
theology — or philosophy of religion, to use the newer term 
— may actually take its accredited place among the sciences. 
Huxley wrote, a generation or more ago, "The greatest intel- 
lectual revolution man has yet seen is slowly taking place by 
the aid of science. She is teaching the world that the ulti- 
mate court of appeal is observation and experience, and not 
authority; she is teaching it to estimate the value of evi- 
dence." * And in the opening years of the Twentieth Cen- 
tury we find books on religion laying down such principles as 
these: "I have urged that there is only one method of knowl- 
edge, that of experience and legitimate inference from experi- 
ence. And while freely admitting, and even insisting upon, 
the importance of every kind of experience as material for 
analysis and discussion, I have argued that any truth that is 
to be elicited from such experience must be elicited by the 
method of science, in the broad and proper sense of the 
term." 2 

1 Lay Sermons: "On the Study of Zoology." 

2 G. L. Dickinson, Religion^ A Criticism and a Forecast, opening para- 
graph. First published in 1903-04. As long ago as 1875, Seeley wrote 



258 PHILOSOPHICAL 

It is a sign of our growing mental maturity that we are at 
last learning to ask for the evidence of whatever we are bade 
believe — for verification of religious truth as clear as that 
which we should be given for the laws of astronomy or biol- 
ogy. There is in certain quarters a profound distrust of this 
spirit; it is felt to be subversive of the faith, the sign of an 
unbelieving and materialistic generation. But if there is no 
proper evidence for our beliefs, we wish to know it; while if 
our theology is true and well-founded, it can stand the test 
of doubt. The intrusion of the scientific spirit into the study 
of religion is a matter for congratulation; it has been the goal 
of much patient labor and earnest pleading on the part of the 
intellectual leaders of the race, as the absence of that spirit 
has been one of the greatest obstacles in the way of the at- 
tainment of truth. With the general acceptance by the 
Church of scientific methods and the scientific spirit we may 
expect a new era in religious thought. 1 

The opposition of the Church to the scientific spirit 

Religion and art and material progress long antedate sci- 
ence; it was not until the classic period of Greek history — at 
least so far as extant records show — that any portion of the 
human race emerged from the superstitious and magical 
view of Nature into a truly empirical study of her processes. 

(Natural Religion, p. 7): "In theology, metaphysics, moral and political 
philosophy, history, the principle of authority has reigned hitherto with 
more or less exelusiveness, and the repudiation of it makes a revolution in 
those departments of knowledge. . . . The important change is in the exten- 
sion of the methods of physical science to the whole domain of knowledge. 
While one part of the 'wisdom of the world' has been discredited as resting 
solely on authority, another large division of it is now rejected as resting on 
insufficient induction, and another as resting on groundless assumptions, 
disguised under the name of necessary truths, truths of the reason, truths 
given in consciousness, etc." Scientists, of course, have been urging this 
for a century or two. 

1 The possibility of super-scientific methods of attaining truth will be 
discussed on pp. 337-41, 361-64, and 406-09. 



THEOLOGICAL METHOD AND THE SCIENTIFIC SPIRIT 259 

A natural science and philosophy was rapidly developed; 
and for a brief brilliant period there might have been a hope 
that human enlightenment would anticipate its actual devel- 
opment by twenty centuries. But the Greek thinkers were a 
small band, soon overwhelmed by political cataclysms; their 
science disappeared under a flood of supernatural explana- 
tions and superstitions. In Rome, though she absorbed 
much of the Greek culture, natural science never became 
firmly established upon a solid footing; and the torrent of 
Christianity that swept over the decaying empire carried 
away what rudiments existed. So was lost man's first great 
opportunity of understanding and mastering the world in 
which he lives; such was the price he paid for that renewal of 
moral earnestness and deepening of his spiritual life that the 
new religion brought. 

Christianity, though it was "foolishness to the Greeks," 
and a silly fable to the wise, 1 — a,ftdp/3apov hoy pa, — spread 
among the masses of ignorant and downtrodden, because 
of the glorious message of hope and of brotherhood which 
it brought; spread not, of course, through any evidence of 
the truth of its doctrines — for who stopped to examine 
the historic testimony by which it was supported ? — but 
through its instant and powerful appeal to the heart. 
When, during the later Roman times, this religion of the 
masses became politically dominant, there was no natural 
science and no scientific spirit even among the upper classes 
to dispute its rapidly crystallizing dogmas. Men of acumen, 
lacking a solid foundation of knowledge, or any criterion of 
evidence, devoted their intellects to elaborating the new 
dogmas and interpreting in philosophical terms the super- 
natural faith they had received. All independent thinking 
was dubbed heresy by the Church, violently denounced and 

1 "Not many men wise after the flesh [i.e., according to the usual stand- 
ards of rating] are called." 1 Cor. 1 : 18-26. 



260 PHILOSOPHICAL 

ruthlessly stamped out; no thought was allowed but that 
which defended the Church doctrines. The pagan systems 
were regarded as impious ; Hypatia, distinguished lecturer on 
philosophy, was murdered by a mob of monks in 441; the 
great schools of i\±hens were closed by order of the Christian 
Emperor Justinian, in 529. L There followed the long slumber 
of the Dark Ages, wherein the intellect, having no free play, 
was the bounden slave of dogma. 

But the restless spirit of man could not forever be bound 
by these chains. We have noted how in the sixteenth cen- 
tury a widespread revolt occurred against ecclesiastical tyr- 
anny and corruption, and the Northern nations especially 
began to seek an altered basis for their religion. Abandoning 
ecclesiastical authority, they retained the authority of the 
Scriptures, which offered as safe a haven to the spirit as the 
authority of Church and Council, but allowed far greater 
opportunity for individual interpretation and construction. 
The classic Greek texts had already been reintroduced into 
Europe, where they had been almost forgotten, through the 
Mohammedan Arabs; and men again began to think for 
themselves. Slowly they ventured on the study of Nature, 
on invention, on exploration. The newly invented printing 
press spread the news of discoveries and theories, and once 
more enlightenment began to go forward. 

Bitterly did the Church oppose every step of this progress. 
The newly won knowledge conflicted with some of her doc- 
trines, the spirit of free inquiry menaced her whole system. 
Even the Reformers could not shake off the shackles of the 
old idea of authority. Luther wrote: "People give ear to an 

1 "The public manifested such indifference toward these ruins of the 
past, that the edict was scarcely noticed. Christianity had taken possession 
of the Empire two centuries ago; the concrete and thrilling questions of reli- 
gion, and the troubles caused by the invasions of the barbarians, superseded 
the serene and peaceful dewpla." A. Weber, History of Philosophy (Eng. tr.), 
p. 184. 



THEOLOGICAL METHOD AND THE SCIENTIFIC SPIRIT 261 

upstart astrologer who strives to show that the earth re- 
volves, not the heavens or the firmament, the sun and the 
moon. Whoever wishes to appear clever must devise some 
new system, which of all systems is, of course, the best way! 
This fool wishes to reverse the entire science of astronomy. 
But sacred Scripture tells us that Joshua commanded the 
sun to stand still, and not the earth." And similarly the 
scholarly Melancthon: "Certain men, either from the love 
of novelty or to make a display of ingenuity, have concluded 
that the earth moves. Now it is want of honesty and de- 
cency to assert such notions publicly, and the example is 
pernicious. It is the part of a good mind to accept the truth 
as revealed by God and to acquiesce in it. The earth can be 
nowhere except in the center of the universe." 1 Bruno was 
burned at the stake by Catholics, Servetus by Protestant 
Calvin; Galileo, under pain of death, was forced to retrac- 
tion. "But the world does move!" he is said to have mut- 
tered as he left the trial chamber. Aye, verily, the world does 
move, and no power of authority or tradition or of persecu- 
tion could stop it! 

It would take too long even to summarize here the process 
by which, step by step, the new knowledge won its way 
against the Church. The story has been excellently told in 
Andrew D. White's History of the Warfare between Science 
and Theology in Christendom. One by one the conceptions of 
traditional Christian theology which deal with the history 
and nature of this world have yielded to the scientific ideas; 
many of the Protestant churches have revised or dropped 
their creeds, and kept pace in considerable measure with the 
new conceptions; all of them, and the Catholic Church as 
well, have been compelled in some degree to rephrase and 
reinterpret them. But every inch of the way has been fought; 
a huge mass of literature has been evolved in the ever- 
1 Both quoted by Foster, op. cit., pp. 162-63. 



262 PHILOSOPHICAL 

repeated attempts to square the creeds with the advance of 
knowledge, and the greater part of modern philosophy has 
concerned itself with the reexpressing of inherited beliefs 
in forms less and less obviously inconsonant therewith. 
Stamped and creased with these traditional forms of thought, 
philosophy has not been able, to any great extent, to become 
purely scientific, or to show the free spontaneity of the 
Greeks; and some of the sciences have been seriously ham- 
pered by the theological prepossessions of so many of their 
devotees. But science has grown, through the sheer force of 
truth, and through the practical usefulness of her discov- 
eries. Scientific knowledge has become widely diffused; and 
the Church, in contending against it, has lost the allegiance 
of large numbers of her sons. 

The battle has been a losing one for the Church, a gradual 
retreat from vantage-point to vantage-point, a steady re- 
cession of once assured dogma and concession to scientific 
knowledge. Stumbling and slipping, grasping at this crevice 
and that ledge, but sliding surely down, once it left the secure 
rock of an unquestioned authority, theology is coming to 
earth, abandoning its pretensions to a special avenue to truth, 
and becoming absorbed in such scientific studies as the psy- 
chology of religion and the history of religions. Meanwhile 
everything is confusion. Scientific knowledge has become 
widely diffused; but the scientific spirit, which won that 
knowledge and which has much yet to win out of the un- 
known for man, finds common comprehension and acceptance 
much more slowly. Facts that scholars everywhere proclaim 
become before long the public possession; but the spirit of im- 
partial observation and generalization through which those 
facts were patiently wrested from the chaos of experience is 
as yet but the possession of the few. Protestant churches 
pretty generally accept the results of science, but not so 
generally her method. But not till Christianity openly wel- 



THEOLOGICAL METHOD AND THE SCIENTIFIC SPIRIT 263 

comes this spirit of free criticism and inquiry, and seeks to 
base her beliefs on as solid grounds of experience as anything 
else that we call knowledge, can she put an end to the long, 
unhappy, shameful conflict between religion and science. It 
is not enough to make timid expurgations and leave un- 
remedied the fundamental mistake. Once the secure basis 
of revealed authority is abandoned, there is no intermediate 
resting place for thought until it rests on the authority 
of scientific knowledge. 

A. D. White, History of the Warfare between Science and Theology. 
J. W. Draper, History of the Conflict between Religion and Science. 
J. B. Bury, History of Freedom of Thought. W. N. Rice, Christian 
Faith in an Age of Science, pt. I. A. Sabatier, Religions of Authority 
and the Religion of the Spirit. R. M. Wenley, Modern Thought and 
the Crisis in Belief, n. W. F. Adeney, A Century's Progress, chap. 
rv. G. B. Foster, Finality of the Christian Religion, chap. v. J. T. 
Shotwell, Religious Revolution of Today. G. L. Dickinson, Reli- 
gion, A Criticism and Forecast, chap. n. J. R. Seeley, Natural Reli- 
gion, pt. i, chap. i. K. Pearson, Grammar of Science, chap. i. T. H. 
Huxley, Science and Hebrew Tradition, chap. I. G. Forester, Faith 
of an Agnostic, chaps, ii-iii. E. Boutroux, Science and Religion in 
Contemporary Philosophy, "Conclusion." Harvard Theological 
Review, vol. 7, p. 1. New World, vol. 9, p. 285. Biblical World, vol. 
43, p. 178. 



CHAPTER XVII 

THE INTERPRETATION OF THE BIBLE 

The Christian Bible consists of the sacred books of the 
Jews, together with certain narratives and letters and a 
fragment of apocalyptic literature dating from the early 
Christian era. All these documents were slowly sifted out of 
a much larger mass of similar literature, the collection reach- 
ing that definite limit which it has since maintained in the 
fifth century A.D. A heterogeneous corpus as it is of divers 
sorts of writings, by men of many different beliefs and con- 
victions, accumulated during ten centuries of marked reli- 
gious transition, 1 an unbiased mind would certainly never 
suspect it of being a book of supernatural origin or author- 
ity. It is true that the Hebrew prophets, like the prophets 
of other religions, believed themselves inspired of God in 
their utterances, and used, fearlessly and freely, the formula, 
"Thus saith Jehovah," when they expressed their burning 
convictions of right and wrong. But even those of their 
contemporaries who believed them to be inspired of God 
were free to criticize their specific pronouncements. The 
Old Testament historians, in compiling their chronicles, re- 
ferred now and then to earlier and well-known books as 
authority for their statements, 2 as they would hardly have 
done if they had expected their accounts to be taken on 
Divine authority. The author of Luke, in prefacing his 
work, claims attention only as a painstaking historian, not 

1 The J document of the Hexateuch was written about 850 B.C., and the 
latest books of the New Testament about 130 a.d. 

2 See, e.g., Joshua 10: 12 f; Num. 21: 14. Sixteen books, now lost, are 
thus alluded to in the Old Testament. 



THE INTERPRETATION OF THE BIBLE 265 

as a vehicle of supernatural inspiration. And certainly Paul 
would have been bewildered to find his hasty and occasional 
letters taken by pious Christians as the very Word of God! 

How did the conception develop of the inerrancy of the 
Bible? 

It is not difficult to trace the historic process by which 
these particular Jewish and Christian writings came to be 
set apart as having special authority, and finally as essen- 
tially different from all other books. The first document to 
be thus regarded was the Book of Deuteronomy, which, in 
its original and briefer form, was published under peculiar 
circumstances during the reign of Josiah, about 621 B.C. 1 
Written actually not long before, it purported to come from 
the ancient lawgiver Moses, and as such was accepted by 
the king and the pious among the people, and declared the 
religious law of the land. In 444 B.C., after the return of a 
remnant of the faithful from the exile, Ezra promulgated the 
so-called Priestly code, which was also accepted as Mosaic. 
About this nucleus other books gradually gathered: the 
words of the great prophets of an earlier time, chronicles of 
the former golden age of Hebrew history, religious hymns, 
tales, and proverbs. Slowly the idea of a canon, or authorita- 
tive collection, was evolved. What books should be included 
therein was for long uncertain; the pious hesitated, for ex- 
ample, over the Song of Songs and Ecclesiastes, ultimately 
admitting them because of their reputed Solomonic author- 
ship. Collections varying from a score or so to over four 
score books were made. But formal and second-hand as the 
Jewish religion had largely become, the need was strongly 
felt of an authoritative code to which to cling; and by the 
time of Christ the Hebrew Scriptures had attained practi- 
cally the limits which have since been retained, though cer- 
1 See 2 Kings 22 and 23. 



266 PHILOSOPHICAL 

tain books were still hotly disputed, and the canon was not 
definitely fixed for another century. 

The early Christians, convinced that a New Dispensation * 
was at hand, and eager to share and deepen their new con- 
victions, began to read at their meetings the accounts of 
Jesus' life and some of the letters of his apostles which best 
conveyed the new gospel. At first many books were read 
and cherished which have since been discarded — such writ- 
ings as the Epistle of Barnabas, the Epistle of Clement, and 
the Shepard of Hernias being ranked with the letters of Paul. 
Luke tells us that many Gospels were in existence in his day; 
fragments of a number of these have been found. On the 
other hand, a number of the books which were eventually 
included in the Christian collection were for long regarded 
with little favor by many of the churches; Hebrews, James, 
Jude, 2 Peter, 2 and 3 John, and Revelation were especially 
the subject of debate. Finally, however, by chance or cir- 
cumstance, the canon came to include those books which 
now form our New Testament, and to reject all others; an 
ecclesiastical decree of 495 a.d. settled the last open ques- 
tions, and the intellectual torpor of the Middle Ages put an 
end to controversy and change. 

Contemporaneously with the gradual determination of the 
canon there developed a greater and greater reverence for 
these new sacred books. At first the Gospels were quoted 
simply as memoirs, and their statements justified by quota- 
tions from the Old Testament. But as the age of Jesus and 
the apostles faded farther and farther into the past, the sur- 
viving literature that contained their teaching grew more 
and more precious; and these writings, far more important 
to the Church than the old Jewish Scriptures, came to be 
ranked as equally inspired. The name Bible — @L@\La, the 

1 Hence the title New Testament — testamentum, Siad^KT], meaning 
"dispensation" or "covenant." 



THE INTERPRETATION OF THE BIBLE 267 

Books — dates from the fourth century, and marks the defi- 
nite fusion of these two sacred anthologies. For a long time 
the Bible books were freely criticized. St. Jerome exercised 
his individual judgment in accepting or rejecting. Luther 
called the Book of James "a veritable epistle of straw," and 
said of the Old Testament that we sometimes find in it 
"wood, hay, and stubble, and not always gold, silver, or 
diamonds." But free criticism means divergence in belief. 
And the Church, in its struggle to maintain a standard of 
orthodoxy, gradually came to that insistence on the absolute 
truth of every word of her sacred books which for so long 
dominated the minds of men — a conception vehemently 
preached even to-day, and holding its own here and there 
even in the face of the general diffusion of historical and 
scientific knowledge. 1 

What facts have altered our conception of the Bible? 

The word "criticism" (from fcpwelv, to judge) does not 
properly imply caviling or fault-finding; it means judgment, 
discernment, comprehension. Biblical criticism, which had 
its beginning, perhaps, in Spinoza's Tractatus Theologico- 
Politicus, and has had a marvelous development in the past 
century, is simply an open-minded attempt to understand 
the various documents that make up the Bible, their dates, 
authorship, purpose, and meaning. Our increasing knowl- 
edge of nature, of history, of psychology, and of comparative 
religion, the reconstruction of more accurate texts through 
the discovery of new manuscripts and the patiently minute 

1 Cf . this passage from a sermon preached as late as 1861 at Oxford Uni- 
versity, by Dean Burgon: "The Bible is none other than the voice of Him 
that sitteth upon the throne. Every book of it, every chapter of it, every 
verse of it, every syllable of it (where are we to stop?), every letter of it, is 
the direct utterance of the Most High. The Bible is none other than the 
Word of God — not some part of it more, some part of it less, but all alike 
the utterance of Him who sitteth upon the throne, faultless, unerring, 
supreme." 



268 PHILOSOPHICAL 

comparison of the thousands now available, the study of 
contemporary inscriptions and remains, of the development 
of the Hebrew and Greek languages and the precise mean- 
ings of their words, and the growth of a maturer historical 
method, that knows how to read between the lines of a nar- 
rative and discriminate trustworthy from unreliable materi- 
als — these manifold new resources have brought us to a 
far more intelligent appreciation of this mass of Jewish and 
Christian writings. Differences of opinion on many points 
still exist; and there are many things which we should like to 
know that must forever remain beyond reach of our investi- 
gation. But the general conclusions of modern scholarship 
with regard to the Bible "cannot be denied without denying 
the ordinary principles by which history is judged and evi- 
dence estimated. Nor can it be doubted that the same con- 
clusions, upon any neutral field of investigation, would have 
been accepted without hesitation by all conversant with the 
subject." * 

(1) It has, for one thing, been definitely proved that the 
traditional ascriptions of authorship of many of the Bible 
books are mistaken. The Pentateuch, for example, was not 
written till centuries after the time of Moses — as on the 
surface would seem probable from the fact that kings of 
Israel are mentioned therein, not to speak of the description 
of Moses' own death! These books have been proved to be 
compilations dating from the period of the exile, incorpo- 
rating two parallel narratives of the eighth and ninth cen- 
tury, together with considerable later material; the parallel 
strands run side by side through a large part of them, and the 
compiler has not always well reconciled the divergent ac- 
counts. Again, few, if any, of the Psalms were written by 
David; most of them are post-exilic. Neither Ecclesiastes 

1 Canon Driver, Introduction to the Old Testament, Preface. A good book 
to study in this connection is H. B. George's Historical Evidence. 



THE INTERPRETATION OF THE BIBLE 269 

nor the Song of Solomon was written by Solomon. The 
greater part of the Book of Isaiah comes from a much later 
time. The probabilities are strongly against the authorship 
of the Gospels — with the exception of the Second Gospel 
— by the men whose names they bear. Some of the sup- 
posed epistles of Paul are certainly not from his hand, 1 James 
is not by its reputed author, and 2 Peter is a barefaced forg- 
ery. The Book of Revelation is a medley of apocalyptic lit- 
erature, some of it pre-Christian, none of it by the author of 
the Fourth Gospel. These commonplaces of Biblical scholar- 
ship can be substantiated by a study of any of the good 
recent introductions to Old and New Testament. 2 

(2) But other facts have been brought to light much more 
significantly at variance with the old conceptions of the Bible. 
For one thing, many inconsistencies exist between different 
traditions that have both been incorporated. When one 
verse flatly contradicts another, it is only by a difficult eva- 
sion that the believer can preserve his devout belief in the 
truth of both. For instance — to mention but a few — in 
Acts 9:7, speaking of Paul's vision, we read, "And the men 
who journeyed with him stood speechless, hearing a voice, but 
seeing no man," while in Acts 22: 9, which narrates the same 
experience, we read, "And they that were with me saw in- 
deed the light, and were not afraid; but they heard not the 
voice of him that spake to me." Again, the first three Gospels 
make Christ eat the Last Supper on the eve of the Passover, 
and die on that day, while the Fourth Gospel relates that he 
died on the day of preparation for the Passover. Of the same 
census we read in 2 Sam. 24: 1, that the Lord commanded 
David to take it, and in 1 Chron. 21 : 1, that it was Satan 

1 Hebrews is certainly not his, and the Pastoral Epistles (1 and 2 Timo- 
thy and Titus), at least in their present form. Very many scholars are con- 
fident that 2 Thessalonians and Ephesians are not from Paul. 

2 See the references on pp. 49-50 and 66. 



270 PHILOSOPHICAL 

that put it into his mind. The two genealogies of Christ — 
both purporting to trace his ancestry back to David through 
Joseph — are flatly contradictory of each other, as indeed 
both conflict with the tradition, also accepted in the same 
two Gospels, of the virgin birth, whereby Joseph was held to 
be not his father at all. The infancy and resurrection stories 
at the beginning and end of Matthew and Luke are in many 
respects mutually incompatible. 

(3) Not merely inconsistent with one another, however, 
but obviously untrue, are many of the Biblical statements. 
For example, the world was not made in six days (which 
were real days, " morning and evening," to the narrator) nor 
in six geological epochs, except by a very arbitrary straining 
of facts. The order of creation given in Genesis differs from 
the order in which things really came into being. The sky is 
not a "firmament" (or partition) which divides the "waters 
which are under the firmament" from the " waters which are 
above the firmament." This whole account of creation, 
which is closely parallel to earlier Babylonian accounts, re- 
flects a very primitive conception of nature. Again, not a 
few statements in the historical books have been proved 
untrue by extant monuments and the records of surround- 
ing nations; it is plain to the historical student that the 
Jewish chronicles are biased and to considerable extent un- 
trustworthy. It is clear that the evangelists were in many 
points mistaken in their views of the events of Jesus' life. 
And the author of Acts, by his irreconcilable differences 
from the statements of Paul, shows a radical misconception 
of the nature of some of the events in the early history of 
the Church. 

(4) But still more strikingly incompatible with the super- 
natural view of the Bible are the gross and immoral ideas 
that are mingled with its noble and elevating inspirations. 
No worse than contemporary cults, the Jahweh-worship of 



THE INTERPRETATION OF THE BIBLE 271 

the Jews was at first no better; and even down to and beyond 
the times of Jesus certain ideas persisted that are repugnant 
to our humaner instincts. God's anger and desire for ven- 
geance are repeatedly mentioned; and the picture the un- 
prejudiced reader would form of this Jewish deity from many 
Old Testament passages is that of a cruel and bloodthirsty 
tyrant. He " hardens Pharaoh's heart " x that he may punish 
the Egyptians in a spectacular manner; he throws stones 
down from heaven on Israel's foes; 2 he commands the sun 
to stand still that more of them may be slain before dark; 3 
he bids his chosen people invade the land of a neighboring 
tribe, burn all their cities, slay all the males, adults and chil- 
dren, and all the married women, and keep the virgins for 
their own enjoyment; 4 he slays seventy thousand innocent 
Israelites for David's sin in taking a census of the people. 5 
Jael and Hahab are praised, though guilty of the blackest 
crimes, because they were on Israel's side. To the usurper 
Jehu, who entraps and murders numbers of innocent people, 
including children, to establish his power, the Lord declares, 
"Thou hast done well in executing that which is right in 
mine eyes." 6 Even the Psalms, with all their intense reli- 
gious feeling, have much in them that is low and unworthy 
— whining complaints over troubles, anathemas upon other 
peoples whom the Jews hated, vindictive appeals to Jehovah 
to persecute them. 7 " O daughter of Babylon," the psalmist 
says, "Happy shall he be that rewardeth thee as thou hast 
served us. Happy shall he be that taketh and dasheth thy 
little children against the stones ! " 8 

Even worse than the revengeful longings of the psalmist 
is the bitter threat of everlasting punishment for unbelievers 

1 Exod. 14 : 4-8. 2 Joshua 10 : 11. 3 Ibid. : 12-13. 

4 Num. 31. 5 2 Sam. 24:15. 

6 2 Kings 10 : 1-30. For other cruel Old Testament teachings see Deut. 
2: 34; 7: 2-16; 20: 10-17; Lev. 25: 44-46; 1 Sam. 15: 3. 

7 Cf.. e.g., Ps. 69 : 22-29; 109 : 6-21. 8 Ps. 137 : 8-9. 



272 PHILOSOPHICAL 

in the Book of Revelation. He that worships falsely "shall 
drink of the wine of the wrath of God, which is poured out 
without mixture into the cup of his indignation; and he shall 
be tormented with fire and brimstone in the presence of the 
holy angels, and in the presence of the Lamb. And the 
smoke of their torment ascendeth up for ever and ever; and 
they have no rest day nor night." l Paul too had a grim and 
revolting side to his faith: " [God] saith to Moses, I will have 
mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compas- 
sion on whom I will have compassion ... he hath mercy on 
whom he will have mercy and whom he will he hardeneth. 
. . . Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same 
lump to make one vessel unto honor and another unto dis- 
honor?" 2 And in one of the epistles we read, "God shall 
send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie; 
that they all might be damned who believed not the truth." 3 
Surely such sentiments need no comment! In the light of 
them, to teach that the teachings of the Bible are through- 
out divine and authoritative is to barbarize our moral ideas; 
to claim that such words as these are inspired of God is to 
worship a god who is at times a very devil. Wicked dogmas 
have been based on some of these texts, cruelties have been 
justified by them. Our forefathers put poor old women to 
death because of the verse "A witch shall not live." 4 Reli- 
gious persecutors have pointed to the texts," Constrain them 
to come in," and "Gather up the tares in bundles and burn 
them." 5 The subjection of women has justified itself from 
the saying, " I suffer not a woman to teach . . . but to be 
in silence." 6 

These bits of dross amid the gold do not destroy the 
worth of the Bible, but they do make sharply against the 

1 Rev. 14: 10-11. 2 Rom. 9: 15-24. 8 2 Thess. 2: 11-12. 

4 Exod. 22: 18. 6 Luke 14 : 23. Matt. 13: 30. 6 1 Tim. 2: 12. 



THE INTERPRETATION OF THE BIBLE 273 

conception of it as everywhere inspired and authoritative. 
It is important, to get a right appreciation of it, that we 
face these facts. Indiscriminate praise hurts rather than 
helps in the long run. The Bible is a very human book; 
it pictures the progress of a very primitive people toward 
a love of the highest things; its writers are often mistaken, 
often biased, often possessed with illusions, sometimes 
possessed with human weakness and passion. We must read 
it as we would read any other book, passing lightly over the 
unhelpful parts, dwelling on what is true and elevating, and 
thus making it a stimulus, never a hindrance to our inward 
growth. 

Is the Bible inspired, the Word of God, authoritative? 

(1) The Bible is by no means of even value; to use it 
wisely we must recognize that fact. It is not inspired in all 
its teachings. And even where we may call it inspired, we 
must not take that inspiration as a warrant of infallibility. 
The Church has never agreed upon a definition of the 
term "inspired"; but in the Bible, inspiration is ascribed 
to very imperfect men — as, Balaam, Gideon, Saul, David. 
It means the entrance into the heart of a holier spirit, a 
loftier spiritual vision. But the most inspired teachers 
have had their illusions and sometimes judged amiss. The 
only way to know what is inspired is to find what has the 
power to inspire others — what illumines life, reveals its 
deeper meanings, quickens men's spiritual loyalty. And 
surely so much inspiration could not have come out of the 
Bible for all these generations of men if a very real inspira- 
tion had not gone into it. The best passages in it are in- 
spired as are few other passages in the whole range of the 
world's religious literature. 

Spiritual insight in the degree here found is rare. But there 
is no need, in our loyalty to the Bible, of disparaging the 



274 PHILOSOPHICAL 

holy books of the other religions or such other Jewish and 
Christian writings as did not get included within the Bible 
canon. Ecclesiasticus, for example, has at least as much 
inspiration in it as Ecclesiastes, and Tobit surely more than 
Esther; in the Buddhist Scriptures are many passages more 
truly inspired than the less inspired parts of our Bible, and 
surely Dante at his best was inspired, and Tennyson, and 
Emerson, and Phillips Brooks. We must cease to thi nk of 
the Bible as different in kind from other books, or of its 
teachings as unique. The religion of Israel was not an 
isolated phenomenon, requiring a supernatural explanation 
and recorded in a miraculous manner; it was rather a stage 
in the natural evolution of Semitic religion, quite intelli- 
gible in view of the influences under which it developed, 
and finding documentary expression through the natural 
zeal of its priests and prophets. Biblical religion is an out- 
growth of earlier phases of religious development; its 
legends and rites and codes are variants of earlier ones 
which may, to some shght extent, still be deciphered in 
Babylonian, Assyrian, and Hit tit e inscriptions. In short, 
God is revealed, as the apostle said, "by divers portions 
and in divers manners": he is God "not of the Jews only, 
but of the Gentiles also." The Bible, if it is an invaluable 
record of man's consciousness of God. is. after all. but one of 
many such records. He who finds inspiration and sustenance 
therein should learn to find inspiration also in the other pre- 
cious monuments of the religious life of humanity. 

(2) Can we say. then, that the Bible is the Word of God? 
It is noteworthy that that phrase, although used over four 
hundred times in the Bible, is in none of those instances 
applied to the Bible. The formula of the Reformation was, 
that the Scriptures contain the Word of God; that is to 
say, the truth is in the Bible, but the Bible as a whole is 
not to be identified with it. It is the vehicle of it, and a 



THE INTERPRETATION OF THE BIBLE 275 

vehicle that is by no means perfect. The devout reader 
can find there much precious religious insight; God is re- 
vealed therein. But that revelation of God is mingled with 
much else that the children of Israel, in their long quest 
for divine truth, could not disentangle therefrom. The fa- 
miliar assertion, attributed to the evangelist Moody among 
others, that the Bible is "the Word of God from cover to 
cover,"" is one calculated to blur our perception of religious 
values and do incalculable mischief. 

(3) Finally, how, or in what sense, has the Bible author- 
ity? In a word, its authority is that of the truth which it 
contains, no more. We cannot call a statement true simply 
because the Bible says so; but whatever of truth the mature 
experience of Christendom finds in the Bible demands our 
allegiance — not because it is in the Bible, but because it is 
true. We may thus be spared all that far-fetched exegesis, 
those strained interpretations of Biblical statements that 
aim to commend them to us against conscience or common 
sense, and freely admit that the Biblical writers, however 
inspired in their best moments, were at other times, or 
even in the midst of their most inspired utterances, often 
deluded in their hopes and mistaken in their facts. We never 
dream of accepting the sweeping claims of the other holy 
books of the world to an absolute authority; we read the 
Vedas, the Zend-Avesta, the Koran for whatever of truth 
we can find in them, and discard the rest. Were it not 
that Christianity grew up out of Judaism, and in its infancy 
rested upon it for support, we should no more think of ac- 
cepting the authority of the Jewish Scriptures than that of 
any of these other sacred writings. In the last analysis, we 
must follow Christ's precept — " Why even of yourselves 
judge ye not what is right?" We must judge every Book 
and Church and Teacher by the light of our own reason 
and conscience; and we shall know that the Bible contains 



276 PHILOSOPHICAL 

a great revelation of truth because we are able to judge for 
ourselves of what is true and what is false. Calvin saw 
clearly when he wrote, "As to this inquiry, ' Whence shall 
we be persuaded that Scripture hath flowed from God unless 
we have recourse to the decrees of the Church? ' This is 
as if one should inquire, ' Whence do we learn to distinguish 
light from darkness, white from black, sweet from bitter? ' 
For Scripture lets us have a no more obscure perception of 
its truth than black and white things of their color, sweet 
and bitter of their taste." 

Wherein consists the greatness of the Bible? 

(1) The primary value of the Bible will doubtless always 
he in its power to inspire, to awaken a devotional spirit, 
and deepen men's insight into spiritual truth. Xo book was 
ever so surcharged with religious feeling or makes it so 
concrete and living. Heterogeneous as its various documents 
are, we find throughout an endless faith in the laws of 
righteousness, a never-fading consciousness of God. The 
great seers and prophets and saints of the last two millennia, 
together with countless humble souls, have to an extra- 
ordinary degree been moulded by it and drawn from it their 
inspiration and their power. National ideals have been 
formed under its influence; it has been one of the two or 
three greatest influences in modern life. "This collection of 
books has taken such a hold on the world as no other. . . . 
It is read of a Sabbath in all the ten thousand pulpits of our 
land. ... It goes equally to the cottage of the plain man and 
the palace of the king. It is woven into the literature of the 
scholar, and colors the talk of the street. . . . Some thousand 
famous writers come up in this century, to be forgotten in the 
next. But the silver cord of the Bible is not loosed, nor its 
golden bowl broken, as tens of centuries go by." l 
1 Theodore Parker, Discourse of Religion, pp. 302-04. 



THE INTERPRETATION OF THE BIBLE 277 

In view of the proved inspirational power of these writings, 
we must take care that they be read still by the generations 
to come. The collapse of the old pretensions concerning the 
Bible has turned many a man away from it in impatience or 
contempt. Others, who have not heard the call to the higher 
life, are bored with its solemnity and prefer to do their 
reading in the lighter and gayer literature of the hour. But 
if the people ever cease to read the Bible for its spiritual 
dynamic, our young men will, we may fear, cease to see 
visions, and lose their belief in the things of the spirit. 

(2) Even from a purely cultural point of view the loss 
would be great. The splendid Elizabethan English of the 
King James Version has done more than any other force to 
preserve the beauty and rhythm of our speech; conver- 
sance with it has been the source of the literary power of 
many a master. And an acquaintance with this winnowed 
literature of a great people is an education in itself. All the 
great human emotions find expression between the covers of 
this book with the deepest sincerity and in inimitable lan- 
guage. Here are chronicles unsurpassed in vivid terseness 
and dramatic power; here are ancient legal codes, folk- tales, 
sermons, letters, biographies, love-poems, hymns, an epic, 
charming tales of rustic life, of Oriental courts, of war and 
passion; conjugal fidelity is dwelt upon, ambition, filial 
devotion, patriotism, and mother-love; fascinating stories, 
exquisite lyrics, earnest exhortations, memorable aphorisms, 
aptest of parables, combine to form an anthology of the 
deepest interest to all lovers of what is abiding and excellent 
in human life. " Wholly apart from its religious or from 
its ethical value, the Bible is the one book that no intelli- 
gent person who wishes to come into contact with the world 
of thought and to share the ideas of the great minds of the 
Christian era can afford to be ignorant of. All modern liter- 
ature and all art are permeated with it. There is scarcely a 



£78 PHILOSOPHICAL 

great work in the language that can be fully understood and 
enjoyed without this knowledge, so full is it of allusions 
and illustrations from the Bible. It is not at all a question 
of religion, or theology, or dogma; it is a question of general 
intelligence." l 

(3) From the historian's point of view, also, we must 
acknowledge the importance of these records of the develop- 
ment of the greatest of religions. They are not always accu- 
rate or trustworthy in their conception of the facts; but 
they are priceless sources, landmarks of religious history, 
monuments of some of the most important events that have 
happened on earth. From them we can understand the move- 
ment that culminated in the great sermons of the prophets, 
and later led to the supreme event in religious history, per- 
haps in all history, the Christian conquest of the Western 
world. The memorabilia of Jesus picture the purest of men 
teaching the highest way of life that man has conceived. 
The Bible is the greatest source-book of the religious life, 
its supreme and classic expression. As the Greek statues 
are in the realm of sculpture, as Homer and Dante are in the 
realm of poetry, as Shakespeare is in the realm of drama, 
so is the Bible in the realm of religion. 

(4) And finally, however antiquated or unintelligible to 
us its ancient conceptions may sometimes appear, and how- 
ever we may be drawn to other, more recent and more so- 
phisticated books, we must never forget what the Bible has 
meant in the life of our Church and of our race. Tattered 
and worn as it is, only the fragments of a great literature, 
its text often corrupted through the errors of a thousand 
loving but humanly fallible copyings by hand, discredited 
in many of its statements by the onward march of historical 
and cosmological knowledge, obsolete in many of its ideas 
and obsolescent even in some of its most cherished ideals, it 

1 Charles Dudley Warner, quoted by Selleck, p. 5. 



THE INTERPRETATION OF THE BIBLE 279 

is yet our Book of books, the banner about which Christen- 
dom has so long rallied, and the ultimate source of very much 
that is best in our lives. Like a flag that is battle-scarred and 
torn, it has inspired so many men to heroic endeavor and 
sacrifice, consecrated for them the long effort of so many 
dragging days, soothed the sting of sorrow of so many 
breaking hearts, that the man who is capable of any deep 
and natural sentiment can hardly see or handle it without 
emotion. As the flag is the symbol of our nation and a 
summons to her service, so the Bible is a perpetual summons 
to the spiritual life and the immortal symbol of man's un- 
quenchable faith in God. 

J. Warschauer, What is the Bible ? J. T. Sunderland, Origin and 
Character of the Bible. W. C. Selleck, New Appreciation of the Bible. 
Driver and Kirkpatrick, Higher Criticism. F. W. Farrar, History 
of Interpretation; The Bible, its Meaning and Supremacy. J. E. 
Carpenter, The Bible in the Nineteenth Century. Foundations, 
chap. ii. W. Gladden, Who Wrote the Bible ? B. P. Bowne, Studies 
in Christianity, chap. i. G. T. Ladd, What is the Bible ? L. Wallis, 
Sociological Study of the Bible. J. P. Peters, The Old Testament and 
the New Scholarship. E. von Dobschutz, Influence of the Bible 
upon Civilization. A. Sabatier, Religions of Authority, bk. n; 
Outlines of a Philosophy of Religion, bk. i, chap. n. R. M. Wenley, 
Modern Thought and the Crisis in Belief, ni-v. G. H. Gilbert, 
Interpretation of the Bible. W. G. Jordan, Biblical Criticism and 
Modern Thought. New World, vol. 3, pp. 23, 250. Methodist Renew, 
vol. 93, p. 899. Biblical World, vol. 44, p. 3. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

MIRACLES 

With the passing of the credulous acceptance of Bible 
legends and the blind trust in Bible texts, the miraculous 
element in Christian belief has tended steadily to diminish. 
Many of the leaders of Christian thought now reject miracles 
in toto; and others who are not ready to abandon them al- 
together have ceased to use them as supports for their faith. 
We will first note the reasons for this waning of belief in 
miracles, and then consider how far, if at all, they can serve 
as foundations or aids for our theology. 

What considerations have weakened the belief in miracles? 

Judging by its etymology, the word "miracle" means 
simply a marvelous event, one which excites our wonder. 1 
In this broadest sense we speak of the sunrise or the coming 
of spring as a miracle, and may, indeed, find the whole 
pageant of nature miraculous. "This green, flowery, rock- 
built earth . . . that great deep sea of azure that swims 
overhead. . . . What is it? Ay what? At bottom we do not 
yet know; we can never know at all. . . . It is by not think- 
ing that we cease to wonder at it. . . . This world after all 
our science and sciences, is still a miracle; wonderful, in- 
scrutable, magical and more, to whosoever will think of it." 2 
More particularly, a miracle is a wonderful event in which 
God is revealed, or which works for man's salvation; the 

1 So the Latin miraculum, the Greek dav/xdaiov, and the German 
Wunder. 

* Carlyle, Heroes and Hero-Worship, chap. i. 



MIRACLES 281 

greatest of miracles is the conversion that takes place in a 
sinner's heart, the power of the indwelling God to regenerate 
a life. In this sense there can be no objection to the use of 
the term; it in so far implies no violation of natural law, no 
break in the regular sequence of cause and effect. And since 
the very idea of natural law is a recent one, the conception 
of miracles can hardly be said to have generally implied such 
a break in a fixed natural order. But the conception has 
usually implied something abnormal, an intrusion into the 
ordinary and expected course of events; and the modern 
technical sense of the word, as a break in the natural chain 
of cause and effect due to supernatural intervention, scarcely 
more than makes explicit and precise what was vaguely 
meant. Taking the term in this sense, then, what grounds 
have we for mistrusting the existence of miracles? 

(1) In the first place, there has been in the past century 
or two a rapid accumulation of evidence pointing to the 
invariable regularity of natural processes — what is called 
the reign of natural law. The more closely we analyze events 
in any field of study, the more clearly we see that their ap- 
parent confusion is the result of an extremely complex tissue 
of underlying uniformities. Things do happen in exactly the 
same way if exactly the same circumstances are repeated; 
the enormous development of science has been possible only 
because of that fact. Whenever an experiment has been 
properly made, it holds good for all time; for the way things 
behaved yesterday is the way they will behave to-morrow. 
There are indeed many groups of phenomena too intricate 
for us as yet to unravel; particularly is this true of mental 
phenomena. But the field of observed uniformity is con- 
stantly being extended. Even mental and social facts are 
suggesting underlying laws to investigators; and if concrete 
mental and social events are too complex and include too 
many disturbing factors for these underlying laws to be any- 



282 PHILOSOPHICAL 

thing but tendencies, the results of statistical study, where 
these disturbing factors counterbalance one another, ex- 
hibit a regularity often very striking. Altogether, it looks 
more and more as if the whole world were, from the ana- 
lytic point of view, an enormously elaborate mechanism; 
and this increasingly insistent look of things constitutes a 
very great presumption against the existence of those alleged 
irregular events that we call miracles. 

We must, indeed, beware of falling into a scientific 
dogmatism upon the matter. After all, the universality of 
natural law is no more than a very big generalization rest- 
ing upon a long series of observations; if any facts to the con- 
trary can be surely established, the generalization is thereby 
disproved. We have no a priori certainty of this " reign of 
law." It rests upon just such an unbroken induction as the 
generalization that " all swans are white," which was ut- 
terly smashed by the discovery of one black swan. Let but 
one miracle be proved, and we must revise this conception 
of the universal life as an unbroken web of uniformities. 
Our science will be rendered in so far more precarious; we 
shall have to recognize the possibility of exceptions to the 
laws which we have come most confidently to rely upon. 
But whether this be the case or not we cannot determine 
a priori; we must simply sharpen our observation, keep 
our eyes open for evidence. Hume, in a famous argument, 
declared the evidence for the universality of natural law to 
be so vast that the falsity of any amount of evidence for a 
miracle was more supposable than a break in law. But the 
universality of natural law is by no means so firmly estab- 
lished; in some fields we have as yet hardly a few glimpses 
of law; and, on the other hand, we have a great deal of hu- 
man testimony offered in support of alleged breaches of law. 
The most that we can say is, that in view of the very re- 
markable recent extensions of the realm of ascertained law 



MIRACLES 283 

into regions that once seemed hopelessly lawless, it should 
require much more certain evidence to convince us of a mir- 
acle than we should ask in support of any fact against which 
there is no such antecedent presumption. 1 

In recent years the deterministic conception of the universe 
— the conception that whatever happens is absolutely de- 
termined by antecedent causes, and, therefore, theoretically 
predictable — has been sharply questioned. We have, for 
example, Driesch's Vitalism, and Bergson's Creative Evo- 
lution — theories that postulate certain variable and inde- 
terminate factors at definite points in the universal life; 
uncaused causes, that veer events this way or that to an 
extent and in a direction unforeseeable even by omniscience. 
As yet none of these anti-deterministic theories is any- 
where near being proved; and the arguments offered in sup- 
port of them have been pretty severely handled. In spite of 
the lure of these conceptions of a more fluid and plastic world- 
life, the weight of scientific opinion seems to incline toward 
the belief in the universality of law. But, after all, the slight 
veerings from mechanically determined effects in the human 
brain, or in the conduct of a bit of protoplasm, cannot be 
conceived to produce such effects as the turning of water into 
wine or the restoration of a corpse to life. That is to say, 
the concrete instances where we are asked to believe in a 
miracle are such as to come within the field of law in any 

1 Huxley has a good illustration of this principle in his book David 
Hume (p. 132): "If a man tells me he saw a piebald horse in Piccadilly, 
I believe him without hesitation. The thing itself is likely enough, and 
there is no imaginable motive for his deceiving me. But if the same per- 
son tells me he observed a zebra there, I might hesitate a little about ac- 
cepting his testimony, unless I were well satisfied, not only as to his previous 
acquaintance with zebras, but as to his powers and opportunities of ob- 
servation in the present case. If, however, my informant assured me that 
he beheld a centaur trotting down that famous thoroughfare, I should 
emphatically decline to credit his statement; and this even if he were the 
saintliest of men and ready to suffer martyrdom in support of his belief." 



284 PHILOSOPHICAL 

case; and the difference between the differing world views 
we have mentioned is not such as to affect the question of 
miracles in any appreciable degree. 

Nor need this other suggestion detain us, that the alleged 
miraculous events may be true and yet not contrary to law, 
since the law may really be more complex than we had sup- 
posed, and, in its adequate formulation, such as to cover the 
given case. 1 Certain supposed miracles, such as the healing- 
acts of Jesus, and of present-day Christian Scientists, or 
the abrupt conversions made by evangelists, may thus be 
ultimately explicable in terms of law, and so not miracles 
at alL But that the laws of chemistry are in need of such 
drastic amendment as to include the case of water turning 
into wine at a word, that the laws of astronomy are so far 
from adequate as to need inclusion of the possibility of the 
sun's standing still upon occasion, is too grotesque a sup- 
position to entertain. Most of the miracles that men argue 
for are of this type; they so flatly contradict well- ascer- 
tained uniformities as to present a clear alternative. Either 
ourmost certain natural laws are really broken now and then, 
©r else the supposed evidence for these breaks is untrust- 
worthy, and the alleged events never happened. 

(&) What, then, is the strength of the evidence for miracles? 
It must be confessed that while the evidence for natural 
laws has been growing steadily greater, the evidence for 
miracles has been growing as steadily less. Remote and 
credulous times are full of miracles; we hear of them but 
rarely, if at afl, to-day. They flourish in the dark and vanish 
with the light of day, with the growth of the habit of accu- 
rate observation and recording of observations. They seem 
to have an affinity for uncultivated minds and superstitious 
tiabits of thought; we do not find them entering into the 

1 Por a clear exposition of ibis suggested possibility, see Rice, pp. 
329-36. 



MIRACLES 285 

experience of the educated. No single case of what would 
clearly be a miracle has ever been vouched for by such care- 
ful scientific observation as to leave no room for doubt of the 
facts. 1 Even if we had apparently unimpeachable evidence, 
in some isolated instance, of a fact which, if it existed, would 
be a miracle, we should have to bear in mind the great 
fallibility of human testimony, 2 and reserve our acquiescence 

1 Some "spiritualistic" phenomena are vouched for by men of high 
scientific repute; so are some of the "miracles" wrought by the holy relics 
at Treves, etc. But these phenomena, even if we can feel sure of their exist- 
ence, do not contradict clearly ascertained laws, and are, in most cases, not 
regarded as miracles by the scientific men who are persuaded of their 
existence. The case would be very different if we could get scientific guar- 
anty of such facts as the turning of water into wine, a man's walking upon 
the sea, being born of a virgin, etc., etc. 

2 Any reader of Munsterberg's On the Witness Stand will realize the 
extraordinary unreliability of the witness even of well-trained men, speak- 
ing in the best of faith. The testimony of ignorant and untrained men is 
almost worthless, except as probed by expert examiners. Especially is this 
the case where the emotions and imagination are implicated. I hardly 
know of a more telling argument against miracles than this little book — 
which, of course, was written without any such reference. 

Even Catholic writers, in their treatment of the miracles ascribed to the 
saints, have been free to point out the unreliability of such testimony. Cf. 
H. Delahaye, Legends of the Saints, p. 15: "Even the most veracious and 
upright of men unconsciously create legends by introducing into their 
narratives their own impressions, deductions, and passions, and thus 
present the truth either embellished or disfigured, according to circum- 
stances. These sources of error, it need scarcely be said, become multiplied 
with the number of intermediaries. Every one in turn understands the 
story in a different fashion and repeats it in his own way. Through inat- 
tention or through defective memory some one forgets to mention an 
important circumstance, necessary to the continuity of the history. A nar- 
rator, more observant than the rest, notes the deficiency, and by means of 
his imagination does his best to repair it. He invents some new detail, and 
suppresses another, until probability and logic appear to him sufficiently 
safeguarded. The result is usually only obtained at the expense of truth; 
for the narrator does not observe that he has substituted a very different 
story for the primitive version. These things happen every day; and 
whether we are eye-witnesses or mere intermediaries, our limited intelli- 
gence, our carelessness, our passions, and above all perhaps our prejudices, 
all conspire against historical accuracy when we take it upon ourselves to 
become narrators." 



286 PHILOSOPHICAL 

until it had been corroborated by testimony from other 
observers or in other similar cases. The fact seems to be, 
however, that the belief in miracles flourishes in primitive 
life, and among naive peoples far into civilized times; miracles 
cluster, in particular, about men of unusual power and per- 
sonality, above all, about great religious teachers. But they 
belong to the thought of uncritical peoples and disappear 
with enlightenment. 

(3) This fact, at any rate, is to be borne in mind: Chris- 
tianity has by no means an exclusive lien upon miracles. 
All the religions are full of them; and, as a recent theologian 
has said, it is not only the weakness of the evidence for the 
Christian miracles but the strength of the evidence for the 
non-Christian miracles that gives us pause. It is only by our 
bias and partisanship that we accept ours and reject theirs. 
Many miracles are better authenticated than those which 
Christian faith has clung to; yet no Christian dreams of 
accepting them. Herodotus, for example, tells us of miracu- 
lous events that happened in his own times; he was a writer 
of a more critical temper than most of the historians of early 
Christianity, and of unblemished character. Yet we dismiss 
his tales with a smile. We read that Buddha was born of 
a virgin, that Zoroaster was miraculously conceived, that 
Mohammed was visited by the angel Gabriel; nearly all of 
the Biblical miracles can be paralleled by equally well- (or 
ill-) substantiated similar miracles in other religions. The 
study of comparative religion shows how the same legends 
and miracles tend constantly to recur. But the believers of 
each religion stoutly affirm their own miracles and deny 
those of the other faiths. "The time has come when the 
minds of men no longer put as a matter of course the Bible 
miracles in a class by themselves. Now, from the moment 
this time commences, from the moment that the compara- 
tive history of all miracles is a conception entertained and 



MIRACLES 287 

a study admitted, the conclusion is certain, the reign of the 
Bible miracles is doomed." l 

If, then, we accept some miracles — as, the raising of 
Lazarus, or the emergence of the reanimated body of Jesus 
from the tomb and its ascension into the sky — there 
seems to be no place to stop. Shall we go on to believe in 
Elijah's raising of the dead, or his bodily translation to the 
skies? in the talking of Balaam's ass, in the collapse of the 
walls of Jericho at the blowing of horns? Shall we go on to 
believe in similar stories in the Buddhist or Mohammedan 
or other Scriptures? The Biblical accounts are not con- 
temporary records; the resurrection stories, in the form which 
we now possess, date from at least fifty years after the time 
of which they speak, the Lazarus story from at least sixty, 
and more likely eighty years after. Then why not accept 
the marvels in Bonaventura's life of St. Francis, written 
but forty years after that saint's death, and in a more en- 
lightened age? The fact is, if we allow ourselves to believe in 
the one case and refuse to believe in the other case, it is not 
because we have any better evidence for the miracles we ac- 
cept, but because we have an antecedent bias toward belief 
therein. We believe primarily because we wish to believe. 

(4) Another interesting fact is that we can often catch 
miracles in process of growth. A harmony of the Gospels, 
for example, reveals, here and there, a development from 
a simple event as recorded by Mark into a much more mar- 
velous happening in Matthew or Luke. We can see how the 
antecedent expectation of miracle-working on the part of 
the Messiah, and the need of pointing to miracles in proof of 
their assertion of Jesus' Messiahship, led the early Christian 
believers to an unconscious embroidering upon the primitive 
tradition. There was a nucleus of marvelous healing-acts 

1 Arnold, God and the Bible, p. 40. An interesting comparative study of 
miracles follows. 



288 PHILOSOPHICAL 

about which further accretions could easily gather; and any 
tale, once started, in whatever way, would gain uncritical 
acceptance. In some cases we can conjecture with consider- 
able confidence that an apparent miracle resulted from the 
misunderstanding of a parable, as in the matter of the 
blasted fig tree and the raising of Lazarus, 1 or of what was 
originally poetic hyperbole, as in the case of the sun stand- 
ing still. 2 In the later, noncanonical gospels, we have all sorts 
of legends which had not yet been accepted when our Gos- 
pels were written. The stories of the birth of Jesus in Beth- 
lehem, the virgin birth, and the reanimation of Jesus' body, 
had almost certainly not gained currency in the time of Paul 
and the apostles; neither in Paul's Epistles nor in the ac- 
count of the primitive Christian preaching in Acts do we 
find allusion to them, though they would have been pre- 
cisely the most telling arguments if known. 3 Again, if all 
the miracles imputed by the evangelists to Jesus were really 
performed, in the presence of so many witnesses, it is in- 
credible that he should have made so little impression upon 
people's minds. The priests assumed without question that 
he was a blasphemer; even his disciples were slow to accept 
him as the Messiah; and at his death he had, in spite of his 
extraordinary personality and spiritual power, but a small 
following. 

1 Cf. Mark 11:12-14, with Luke 13:6-9; and John 11:1-46, with 
Luke 16: 19-31. 

2 The historian takes literally (Joshua 10: 13b-14) the lines of poetry, 
from the book of Jashar, which he has just quoted (vss. 12b-13a). The 
verse-division here conceals the situation badly. 

3 It may be necessary to say again that the rejection of the stories at 
the end of the Gospels, concerning the emergence of Jesus from the tomb 
and the appearance of his reanimated body here and there, by no means 
implies a rejection of the belief in the continued life of Jesus after death. 
That belief was held by the disciples from the very beginning, was corrob- 
orated by their experiences (whatever those experiences may have been) 
and was accepted by Paul on the testimony of his experience on the road 
to Damascus. 



MIRACLES 289 

Such considerations, brief as our summary has been, should 
sufficiently explain the growing skepticism in regard to 
miracles. We may now ask of what value the belief in 
miracles may be if we can still, in spite of these considera- 
tions, retain it. 

Of what value is the belief in miracles? 

According to the traditional view, the power to work mir- 
acles must come from God, and is therefore a witness, not 
only to the presence of God in his world, but to the truth 
of the teaching by which they are accompanied. They are 
God's endorsement of his chosen prophets, their credentials 
before an unbelieving world. Let us examine this concep- 
tion more closely, taking as our concrete example the case 
of Christ, which is the crucial case for Christian thought. 

(1) Do Christ's miracles, if proved, guarantee the truth 
of his spiritual teachings? How can they? What connection 
is there between extraordinary physical powers and spiritual 
truth? " Suppose I should say to you that hate is better than 
love, and then should work a miracle, — for instance, the 
turning of this pencil into a serpent, — would that prove it 
true that hate is better than love? Or suppose I should turn 
a thousand pencils into serpents, or work a thousand other 
miracles, would they all combined have anything whatever 
to do with proving that hate is better than love? " * The 
validity of Christ's principles of living is witnessed, not by 
any marvels that may have accompanied their proclamation, 
but by the inward power and peace they bring. If they do 
not work, if they do not prove the best solution of the prob- 

1 J. T. Sunderland, Miracles in the Light of Modern Knowledge, p. 6. 
Cf. Carlyle, Sartor Resartus, bk. in, chap, viii: "Here too may some in- 
quire, not without astonishment: On what ground shall one, that can 
make iron swim, come and declare that therefore he can teach religion? 
To us, truly, of the Nineteenth Century, such declaration were inept 
enough." 



290 PHILOSOPHICAL [ 

lem of life, then we shall do well to discard them for a better 
solution, though all the thunders of Sinai proclaimed their 
supernatural source. The authoritative religious teacher 
is not he who has power to calm the sea or turn water into 
wine, but he who has an insight into human hearts, their 
needs and temptations and inherent ideals; whoever has 
such insight is our spiritual master, even if he be physically 
the most impotent of mortals. It is a hysteron proteron to 
say that Christ's teachings must be true because they are 
his teachings; we should rather say that he is proved a 
great teacher because he taught what we see to be so true. 

(2) But if spiritual truth must be tested by other criteria 
than its source, is it so with knowledge of facts? Do not 
Christ's miracles prove his supernatural nature and there- 
fore afford a presumption that he knew more than we do 
about God, the human soul and its destiny, and other mat- 
ters beyond our ken? Unfortunately, such a presumption is 
overthrown (quite apart from our doubts as to the actual- 
ity of the miracles) by the fact that so many other people are 
reported to have performed equally striking miracles; and 
their teachings do not agree. How can the orthodox regard 
miracles as a guaranty of the correct knowledge of a teacher, 
when the Bible itself imputes them to all sorts of magicians 
and miracle-mongers? Should we credit the teachings of 
the Egyptian wise men because they were able to turn their 
rods into serpents, transform the waters of the Nile into 
blood, and bring a plague of frogs upon the land? x The 
New Testament refers in several places to miracles wrought 
by "false prophets"; the "sons of the Pharisees" were 
working them, as Jesus says. How then do they give any 
particular authentication to Jesus' teaching rather than to 
that of these others? 2 

1 See Exod. 7: 11-12, 22; 8: 7. 

2 See Matt. 12:27; 7:22; 24:24. Mark. 9:38-41. Luke 9: 49-50. 
Acts 19: 113-15. Rev. 13: 13-14; 16: 13-14; 19: 20. 



MIRACLES 291 

(3) But do not miracles at least manifest God's goodness, 
since they were usually wrought for the benefit of some 
sick or suffering person? On the contrary, it is difficult to 
reconcile the belief in miracles with the belief in God's good- 
ness. For if he can and does at rare intervals allow them, 
to save this man or that, why does he not allow them 
oftener, to save so many other equally innocent victims of 
undeserved suffering? So few saving miracles would be gross 
favoritism. If a miraculous draught of fishes was granted to 
one discouraged band of fishermen, why not to thousands of 
others who have toiled as hard and gone to bed hungry? If 
one leper was healed, and sent on his way rejoicing, why 
not all the wretched sufferers from that loathsome disease? 
Such a little intervention might so often have averted so 
many unspeakable horrors! If the divine order permits of 
miracles at all, it would seem as if God, in not exercising 
this power oftener, must be singularly callous and hard- 
hearted. Again, some of the recorded miracles, while of 
benefit to the favored person, were quite unfairly cruel to 
others who had to suffer therefrom. For example, if God in- 
tervened with a miracle to enable Joshua and his host to 
capture the city of Jericho, it was hard on the innocent 
women and children in the city who were put to the sword. 
If he intervened to save Peter from prison, it was hard 
on the guards, who, though really not at fault, were there- 
upon, we are told, put to death by Herod for dereliction of 
duty. 1 

(4) About the only miracle that would seem of much 
worth to us is that of the resurrection. If we could know 
beyond possibility of doubt that Jesus rose superior to death, 
and is still alive, in some heavenly sphere, that knowledge 
would go far to strengthen our faith in our own immortal- 
ity. Of course, most of those who believe the resurrection 

1 See Joshua 6: 20-21. Acts 12: 19. 



292 PHILOSOPHICAL 

stories hold Jesus to have been a supernatural Being, whose 
continued life would not therefore guarantee ours; while if 
we doubt the previous miracles stories, which prove his 
supernatural powers, we shall be likely to doubt the res- 
urrection stories also. Yet to have evidence of life after 
death, even in a unique case, gives a vast stimulus to hope. 
To be sure, we may well continue to believe Jesus to be 
immortally living, even if we reject these stories; but we shall 
no longer have tangible evidence of it. The genuine ex- 
periences of Paul and the other Apostles, of which we know 
so little, may conceivably have been purely subjective, and 
their conviction that Christ had revealed himself to them, 
or "in them," an illusion. So that a loss of confidence in the 
resurrection stories must be acknowledged to be a loss of no 
small moment. 

What should be our attitude toward miracles? 

Certainly our attitude toward miracles should be that of 
the open mind; to refuse to listen receptively to the great 
mass of proffered evidence would be a stupid dogmatism. 
But as certainly we must, in the present state of the evidence, 
render a verdict of "Not proven"; many would be inclined 
to go further and say, "Not even very plausible." The 
main current of contemporary thought is setting strongly 
against belief in the miraculous. Once men believed in 
Christ because they accepted the fact of the miracles; now 
they believe in miracles, if at all, because they have accepted 
Christ, and suppose the belief in miracles to be a necessary 
corollary. But from being a prop of faith, they have become 
a stumbling-block in the way of faith. That being the case, 
it is at the least a tactical error on the part of Christian 
apologists to thrust them upon their would-be converts. 
The great truths of Christianity are verifiable now, in re- 
peatable human experience; they should not be said to rest 



MIRACLES 293 

upon marvels that are alleged to have happened centuries 
ago and cannot at best be proved. The great theologians 
have seldom leaned hard upon miracles; Christ himself is 
reported to have shown impatience with those who came to 
him seeking for a miracle as a sign, and to have told them 
that they should have for a sign only a summons to re- 
pentance. 1 To-day we have many leaders in the Church who 
are seeking to free Christian truth from the embarrassment 
of the miraculous element. 2 

Finally, we may insist that to lose belief in miracles is by 
no means to lose faith in God. Surely God may be revealed 
as clearly in the normal as in the abnormal, in the sweep of 
the cosmic laws as in interventions that break them. Some 
critics have even ventured to suggest that miracles would 
be a sort of patching up of a cosmos that needed mending, 
and find them incompatible with their theology. But at any 
rate, supernaturalism is by no means essential to Christian- 
ity. Matthew Arnold was absolutely right when he wrote, 
in a well-known passage, 3 "Some people, when they have 
got rid of the preternatural in religion, seem to think that 
they are bound to get rid of the notion of there being any- 
thing grand and wonderful in religion at all; at any rate, to 
reduce this element of what is grand and wonderful to the 
very smallest dimensions. They err." 

Traditionalistic: G. P. Fisher, Grounds of Theistic and Christian 
Belief, chaps, viii-ix. T. J. Dodd, Miracles. G. P. Mains, Modern 
Thought and Traditional Faith, chap. xiv. W. N. Rice, Christian 
Faith in an Age of Science, pt. n. J. Wendland, Miracles and Chris- 

1 Mark 8:11-12. Matt. 16:1-4. Luke 11:29:32. In the duplicate 
passage in Matt. 12: 38-42, some editor has completely mistaken the allu- 
sion and inserted a ridiculous interpretation (vs. 40). 

2 Cf., for example, Gordon, p. 7: "My plea is not against miracles, 
but against the identification of the fortune of religion with the fortune 
of miracle." 

3 God and the Bible, chap. III. 



294 PHILOSOPHICAL 

tianity. J. H. Newman, Two Essays on Miracles; Apologia pro 
vita sua, note B. A. M. Fairbairn, Philosophy of the Christian Re- 
ligion, pp. "23—27. 

Modern: M. Arnold, Literature and Dogma, chap, v; God and the 
Bible, chap. I. T. H. Huxley, Hume, chap, vn; Science arid Christian 
Tradition, chaps, v-vi. H. Hoffding. Philosophy of Religion, p. 
27/. A. Sabatier, Outlines of a Philosophy of Religion, bk. i, chap. 
in, sees. 1-2. G. A. Gordon, Religion and Miracle. G. B. Foster, 
Finality of the Christian Religion, pp. 115-147. J. M. E. Mc'Tag- 
gart, Some Dogmas of Religion, sees. -11-43. American Journal of 
Theology, vol. 8, p. 240; vol. 15, p. 569. Harvard Theological Review, 
vol. 3, p. 143. Hibbert Journal, vol. 12, p. 162. New World, vol. 5, 
p. 9. See also references in footnotes on pp. 66 and 84. 



CHAPTER XIX 

CREATION AND DESIGN 

If we can deduce no safe theological conclusions from 
alleged irregularities in nature, can we do so from the regu- 
larity of the natural order, from any peculiar phenomena 
which it includes, or from the sheer fact of its existence? We 
shall examine some current inferences of this sort. 

Can we draw theological inferences from 

7. The sheer existence of the universe? Many have held 
that the very existence of the universe, with its causal 
order, requires us to postulate God as its creator; here, then, 
would be a big step beyond that empirical knowledge of 
God of which we spoke in chapter ix. The form of the 
argument varies with its various exponents, but one quo- 
tation must suffice: "No movable body moves itself. A does 
not move unless acted upon by B ; nor can B move A unless 
preceded by C. Somewhere there must be an X which is un- 
moved, and yet which is in itself sufficient to explain the 
motion in D, C, B, and A. If X is not given, none of the 
series will move. ... At last, somewhere or other in this 
series, we are forced to admit the existence of an uncaused 
cause. . . . This first efficient cause we call God." l Gen- 
eralized, the argument is that every event must have had 
a cause; we are involved then in an endless regress unless 
we can get back to some First Cause which needs no prior 
cause to explain it. Our causal chain must have some peg to 
1 Aveling, op. cit., pp. 63-76. 



296 PHILOSOPHICAL 

hang from; only in the creative fiat of God can we find such 
a satisfactory end to our search. 

(1) But, if every event must have its cause, what caused 
that creative fiat of God? Must we not, in consistency, 
postulate a prior cause for that — and find ourselves still 
involved in the endless regress? How is it easier to account 
for God than for the universe? If one may be conceived as 
eternal, why may not the other? If God can exist uncaused, 
why may not the other realities? The universe is, at bottom, 
an inexplicable fact; but to postulate another and equally 
inexplicable fact to explain it leaves us with as many ques- 
tions to ask as before. Putting God at the point where we 
cannot read history any farther back, because we crave 
some explanation, is like the ancient acceptance of the belief 
in a gigantic turtle that supported the earth. Surely the earth 
must have some support, and what else could the skeptic 
point to? But how did they know it was a turtle? And what 
supported the turtle? So we may ask our theologian: How 
do you know that the earth was created by God? And what 
created God? The modern inference is as precarious, as 
much a leap in the dark, as the ancient one. 

(2) Well, then, we shall be asked, how else did the universe 
come into being? The answer is simply — we have no means 
of knowing. Perhaps the law of cause and effect did not 
always hold — as, indeed, it may not hold everywhere to- 
day; perhaps the world just began to be, without any ante- 
cedent cause. Or perhaps it is eternal. Eternal existence 
baffles our realization; but the limitations of our power of 
clear conception should not bias our acceptance of concep- 
tual possibilities. Or the world may be the product of many 
gods; this is, indeed, man's earliest idea, and in spite of our 
predilection for unity, there is no proof that there was but 
one first cause. The idea of the creation of the world by God 
is the idea which comes most readily to most of us, with our 



CREATION AND DESIGN 297 

theistic education; it is the most consoling and emotionally 
satisfying answer to the question how the world came into 
being. But it has no more evidence in its favor than any other 
answer, and may not, for all its pleasing associations, be the 
true answer. 

(3) Granted that there must be a first cause, what right 
have we to capitalize it into a First Cause, and call it God? 
God we know in experience, as the great Power making for 
good. What right have we to identify that Power with the 
original creative-power? The first cause may have been a 
Devil, or a non-rational cause. As a matter of fact, the 
farther back we can read the causal process, the nearer we 
get — not to God, but to a nebula, scattered atoms, or ether 
— all purely material states. There is no hint that we should 
reach any other kind of a cause. And so a First Cause, even 
if we can logically assume it, and even if we choose to give 
it the name God, is not proved to be what we mean by God 
in experience; it is only a force at the beginning of things, 
not necessarily a living, present, helpful, or good God, and 
so of no interest to religion. 

In a word, how the universe came into existence, or 
whether it has always existed, we do not know; and wherever 
we are ignorant, imagination readily leaps in to fill the void. 
Creation by an intelligent Being is a conceivable explana- 
tion; but there are many other explanations equally con- 
ceivable, and for neither the one nor the others does the 
mere existence of the cosmos afford the least evidence. 

II. The existence of certain classes of facts. But do not 
the particular characteristics of this universe of ours imply 
creation by an intelligent Being? Theologians have thought 
to find such an implication in the existence of natural law, 
of organic life, of mental life, and of morality. 

(1) Curiously enough, some of the same theologians who 



298 PHILOSOPHICAL 

point to irregularities in the natural course of events — 
i.e., miracles — asa witness of God, point also to the regu- 
larity of the course of events as a witness of God. This mar- 
velous mechanism, they say, must have been created by an 
Intelligence. One way of putting it is to say that " natural 
law implies a lawgiver." That is, however, a palpable play 
on words. For the term " natural law " is merely a metaphor 
for the uniformities which we find in the sequence of events; 
and uniformities of behavior do not imply a lawgiver, but 
may be quite spontaneous or produced by non-intelligent 
causes. Another play on words has it that the " objective 
reason" or "rationality" of the world presupposes a "sub- 
jective reason" or "intelligence " as its source. This so-called 
" rationality " of the world turns out to mean, again, only 
its orderliness, its mechanistic character, which may not be 
imposed upon it from without at all. The fact that the uni- 
verse is a marvelously intricate structure, which we can 
to some degree map in our minds, comprehend, and master, 
cannot logically afford the inference that that intricate and 
intelligible structure was planned and moulded by an ante- 
cedent Mind. Perhaps this complex world-life has evolved, 
unplanned and unforeseen, through the simple but uniform 
habits of its innumerable component parts, which have be- 
come gradually more and more intricately intermingled. 1 

1 This argument merges into a consideration of the problem of knowl- 
edge; and all sorts of theories have been constructed around the assump- 
tion that the intelligibility of the world must be the work of Intelligence. 
Into these deep philosophical waters we cannot here go. But let me quote 
a typical writer of this sort, B. P. Bowne. He speaks of the "numerical 
exactness of mathematical processes," and asserts that "the truly mathe- 
matical is the work of the spirit." The atheist has to "assume a power 
which produces the intelligible and rational, without being itself intelli- 
gent and rational. . . . There is no proper explanation except in theism." 
{Theism, pp. 67-70.) "Things which are to be known must exist in intel- 
ligible, that is, rational, order and relations. The world as we grasp it is 
a world of thought relations; for thought can grasp nothing else. Now if the 
real world were an expression of thought, this would be quite intelligible. 



CREATION AND DESIGN 299 

(2) But do we not, then, need to assume the hand of 
God to account for the existence of organic life on earth? 
or of psychic life? or of moral life? " Organic life had a be- 
ginning in the material universe. But life could not have its 
origin in mere material forces. Therefore that origin is to 
be assigned to the action of a living being altogether differ- 
ent and extraneous to that matter which it endowed with 
the various substantial principles of life." 1 Again, "this 
rare and lonely endowment [human intelligence] must 
have its roots in the universe. . . . The problem then arises 
how to deduce the conscious from the unconscious, the in- 
telligent from the non-intelligent. . . . The more clearly we 
conceive physical elements or processes, the more clearly 
we perceive the impossibility of such a transition." 2 Again, 
"He that implanted in man an unalterable reverence for 
righteousness, shall not he himself be righteous? This in- 
ference is so spontaneous and immediate that it is seldom 
questioned when the moral interest is strong and thought 
is clear. ... As there is no known way of deducing intelli- 
gence from non-intelligence, so there is no known way of de- 
ducing the moral from the non-moral." 3 

These three arguments are alike in alleging the necessity 

The world without exists through a mind analogous to the mind within. . . . 
But on the atheistic scheme the thing-world has no thought whatever in it. 
It just exists in its own mechanical way. . . . But in that case there is no 
way to thought at all, and still less is there any provision for knowledge." 
(Ibid, pp. 132-33.) An introductory survey like the present volume can- 
not afford the space to discuss the epistemological problem, about which 
many bulky volumes have been written. It must suffice to refer the reader 
to such books as Perry's Present Philosophical Tendencies, or the coopera- 
tive volume, The New Realism, or Fullerton's The World We Live In, or 
Strong's Why the Mind has a Body, as illustrations of the contemporary 
tendency to abandon all of this older epistemological theory. According to 
the reigning modes of philosophic thought there is no logical inference to 
theism to be found in the fact of knowledge. 

1 Aveling, op. tit., p. 134. 2 Bowne, op. tit., p. 120. 

3 Ibid., pp. 251-52. * 



300 PHILOSOPHICAL 

of an interposition by God in the natural course of evolution 
in order to account for the origin of these particular develop- 
ments. They are based upon our supposed inability to ex- 
plain the higher stages from the action of the forces present 
at the earlier stages. They are purely negative arguments, 
then, offering no positive sign of an interposed divine fiat, 
and no explanation of how or where such an intervention 
took place. They are based purely upon our present igno- 
rance, and have the weakness of all such arguments — no 
one can say how soon we may find a clue which shall sug- 
gest a purely natural transition from lower to higher stages. 
In view of the absence of any assured sign of intervention 
in the natural order in our own times, and the absence of posi- 
tive evidence for such intervention at these remote points in 
the process, the arguments can hardly be said to be more 
than plausible conjectures. 

But more than that, we are finding continuity in so many 
places where men formerly assumed breaks in the natural 
course of development, that a pretty strong presumption 
arises that we shall ultimately be able to explain the whole 
cosmic process in terms of natural law — or, at least, that 
the natural law is there, whether or not we shall ever be 
able to formulate it. As a matter of fact there are already 
in the field "mechanical" theories of organic life, i.e., 
theories which account for it in terms of known physical 
and chemical laws; such theories have won widespread 
acceptance among biologists. And organic life of a low order, 
or something of the sort, seems to have actually been brought 
into existence out of non-living matter in the laboratory. 
The line between organic life and the activities of "non- 
living matter" is so exceedingly fine, that biologists differ, 
in borderland cases, as to what shall be considered "life" 
and what not; and no student can come away from a survey 
of these phenomena without at least suspecting that they 



CREATION AND DESIGN 301 

are all purely natural, that "living" organisms are simply 
a more complex form of the universal restless activity of 
the cosmic substance. And finally, if "law" does not pre- 
vail through all this process of increasing complexification, 
the intervening factor may be " entelechy," " chance," " free 
will," or what not. The "vitalists" who oppose the con- 
ception of a completely mechanistic universe by no means 
all draw theistic inferences; it is the theologians who, while 
knowing little themselves of the phenomena in question, 
seize upon their anti-mechanical arguments to draw there- 
from a rather far-fetched conclusion. 

The question of the origin of mind takes us over into the 
realm of metaphysics, where all is as yet confusion. But 
here again it must be said that few of the current philo- 
sophical theories lead over into theistic inferences. The 
writer of this volume has elsewhere hinted at a way in which 
the origin of consciousness may be conceived in terms of 
natural law, 1 and hopes to return to the subject in a future 
volume. The whole problem of the nature of consciousness 
and its relation to the material world is as yet so unsettled 
that no safe inferences can be drawn one way or the other. 2 

As to the origin of morality out of a non-moral back- 
ground, any scientific treatise on ethics will show conclu- 
sively that there is no need of assuming any supernatural 
intervention. 3 So that we must admit that our knowledge 
of God is not to be furthered through any inferences that 
we can at present draw from the apparent jumps in the 
evolutionary process. 

(3) There is, however, an assumption behind these cur- 

1 In a dissertation, The Problem of Things in Themselves (Ellis, Boston, 
1911). 

2 This problem would require, again, too much space to take up here. 
See the books mentioned in the footnote on p. 299. 

8 Cf. the present writer's Problems of Conduct, pt. i; or Dewey and 
Tufts, Ethics, pt. i; or Herbert Spencer, Data of Ethics, chaps, i-viii. 



302 PHILOSOPHICAL 

rent arguments that may still linger in the mind of the 
reader. It is, that results cannot be "higher" than their 
causes — "shall a man be more pure than his maker?" 
Aveling makes this assumption explicit in the words," "An 
effect requires a proportionate cause. . . . The essential 
perfection of the effect preexists in the cause." l But have 
we not daily examples of effects more precious than their 
causes? A beautiful flower grows from an uninteresting seed, 
a lovely child from an ugly foetus. If you point out that, 
tracing the process a little further back, the flower and the 
child come from a similar flower and human being, we can 
reply that, tracing the process still further back, the flower 
comes from some flowerless form of vegetation, and the hu- 
man child from an ape-like brute. Everything of most worth 
in our life has sprung, visibly, from dissimilar and humbler 
beginnings. Why may not this be the case with the evolu- 
tionary process as a whole; why may not our earthly life, 
with its intricate diversity and richness of interest, be a 
flowering-out of the world-process into something never 
attained before? At any rate, it is pure assumption to say 
that effects can be no better than their causes; we might as 
well say that they can be no worse — in which case we 
should be led to postulate a Devil as creator, to account 
for what is evil, instead of a God to account for what is 
good and beautiful. 

III. Marks of design or purpose? A far more plausible 
argument than any of the foregoing is that which draws 
from the apparent marks of design in the universe an infer- 
ence that it was created by Intelligence. In so many cases, 
it is said, rational, desirable ends are attained by the intri- 
cate combination of causes not themselves intelligent or 
capable of consciously cooperating, that we have no choice 
but to assume a Master-hand behind the process. We are 

1 Op. cit., p. 78. 



CREATION AND DESIGN 803 

equipped, for example, with eyes for seeing, with ears for 
hearing, and with the most delicate machinery for procur- 
ing our survival and happiness ; water is provided for us to 
drink, air for us to breathe, beautiful scenes to delight our 
hearts. Surely it is absurd to say that such a carefully ad- 
justed world came into being by the cooperation of blind 
forces. May we not then assume with confidence that God 
is Creator of the universe? 

This forcible argument, in its current forms, is analyz- 
able into three strands, which we may examine in turn: — 

(1) The first, and weakest, strand is an argument from 
analogy. In Paley's famous parable, 1 a watch is discovered 
upon a desert island; though there be no other trace of 
human life, the finder knows that a complex mechanism of 
that sort, adapted to a rational use, must have been made 
by an intelligent being. How much more surely, then, can 
we infer that the universe, so much more complex and won- 
derful, and attaining so much more glorious ends, was cre- 
ated by a greater Intelligence ! 

But an argument from analogy is always precarious. It 
may be, for all the analogy can prove, that some kinds of 
complex mechanisms, like the watch, are created by intelli- 
gence, while other kinds, like flowers and animals, and the 
universe as a whole, have come into existence in other ways. 
As a matter of fact, we should not judge the watch to be 
a product of intelligence on any such inferential grounds; 
we know empirically that watches are made by men, and 
do not grow, like flowers and animals. But we have no such 
empirical knowledge of intelligence as concerned with the 
creation of these other complex mechanisms. Hence we 
must pass over this analogical form of the argument and 
consider, more at length, the causal argument. 

(2) It is not conceivable that this cooperation between 

1 Natural Theology, vol. i, chaps, i-iii. 



304 PHILOSOPHICAL 

thousands of unintelligent factors to produce a valuable 
adjustment should be a mere matter of chance. Democritus, 
lacking a Darwinian conception, and unwilling to assume 
a Providence, felt obliged to assert that eyes and ears, and 
all the other delicately adjusted organs, were the fortuitous 
result of the blind whirl of atoms. But this is as grotesque 
a supposition as to hold that a bag of printer's types, flung 
down ever so many million times, would eventually happen 
to fall into just the right order to form the text of this vol- 
ume. If our canons of cause and effect hold in these matters 
at all, there must be some cause adequate to account for the 
assembling and adjustment of the thousands of parts of 
these intricate organs. The logical Method of Agreement, 
discovering that the only point in which all of these diverse 
elements agree is in their function of conducing to the use- 
fulness of the organ, suggests that the cause of the formation 
of these organs has something to do with their use. But the 
usefulness of the eye (for example) is subsequent to its for- 
mation and so cannot itself be the cause sought. What then 
can that cause be but a design-to-cause-the-ability-to-see? 
We may not be able to see how or where this conscious 
intention got in its work; but unless some other equally 
plausible cause is suggested, must we not assume it as the 
only alternative to the inconceivable hypothesis of mere 
chance aggregation? 

No. Because another cause has been pointed out, which 
is not merely plausible, but is actually known to exist. This 
is the-fact-that-better-and-better-eyes (or, approximations- 
to-eyes)-conduce-better-to-survival. In the reproductive 
process, wherethrough all organisms come into existence, 
innumerable obscure physical forces are at work producing 
innumerable slight variations; offspring are not quite exactly 
like their parents. In the struggle for existence between the 
members of a given generation, those will tend to outlive 



CREATION AND DESIGN 305 

the others, and so reproduce their particular type, whose 
variation has given them any sort of advantage over their 
rivals. A slight sensitiveness to light would be such an ad- 
vantage; any physiological change that chanced to produce a 
greater responsiveness to differences in light would give its 
possessor a superiority. Thus, as thousands of generations 
kept providing varying types, that type would (other things 
being equal) tend to survive which had in each case the best 
developed organ that responded to light-waves. And so by 
hundreds of thousands of slight steps, each a lucky variation 
out of thousands of useless or harmful ones, the delicately 
adjusted eyes of existing animals would be formed. This 
blind process, called Natural Selection, working through in- 
telligible physical laws, automatically discards the myriad 
useless experiments which organisms in their exuberant fer- 
tility are producing, and preserves for future development 
those few variations that chance to be steps in the right 
direction. Or, in other words, useful variations tend, in a 
purely mechanical way, to ensure their own survival; and 
an accumulation of useful variations leads ultimately to any 
degree of intricate development. 

It is true that biologists cannot yet explain in detail every 
case of adaptation in terms of this process. But every year 
clears up some hitherto obscure steps; and there are few 
biologists but are led by their observations to the conviction 
that all the manifold adjustments of organic forms will ulti- 
mately be explained in these terms. Moreover, the appar- 
ent adjustments of inorganic nature to the needs of or- 
ganic forms can be explained in terms of the adjustment of 
the organisms to inorganic nature. That is, instead of mar- 
veling, for example, that the earth's atmosphere should have 
just the right proportions of oxygen, carbonic acid gas, etc., 
to maintain the organic life which exists upon its surface, 
we can point out that organic life has come to be of such a 



306 PHILOSOPHICAL 

nature as to utilize precisely such proportions of gases be- 
cause it has crept into existence under those conditions. On 
another planet, where much more CO2 exists, living forms, 
if any have there come into existence, will be of such a na- 
ture as to thrive on a greater proportion of that gas. 

The causal argument, therefore, loses all its cogency. 
Where a known cause is sufficient, or probably sufficient, 
to account for given phenomena, it is illogical to infer an- 
other and unseen cause. Moreover, Natural Selection ac- 
counts for all the failures, all the maladjustments, all the 
hit-or-miss character of the process, as the theological 
hypothesis does not. It is still possible to believe that 
God stands back of the whole evolutionary process; but 
the supposed evidence of his causal activity vanished, once 
Natural Selection was proved to be a vera causa. It is some- 
times said that the Argument from Design can be restated 
in terms of Evolution. That is not true of this causal argu- 
ment. The belief in God's creative activity may indeed be 
retained, but it becomes pure assumption; the argument is 
gone. 

(3) The third form of the argument rests upon the pres- 
ence of values in the world. We may not need to assume a 
supernatural agency to account for the mutual adaptations 
of organisms and environment considered merely as physical 
facts; but when we see what precious values emerge here at 
the end of this apparently blind process, are we not irre- 
sistibly led to suppose that God, in his infinite goodness and 
wisdom, planned and initiated the whole process? 

But consider, first, the clumsiness and cruelty of the 
method employed. Does it look like the work of infinite 
goodness and wisdom to make a thousand useless forms for 
every one that is of use, to kill off a thousand young crea- 
tures, equally endowed with the craving for life, for every 
one that can survive? The process is infinitely more waste- 



CREATION AND DESIGN 307 

ful than the Chinese method of getting roast pig, in Charles 
Lamb's famous tale. It is as if a man, ignorant of what 
constituted the target, were to fire in all directions at ran- 
dom until eventually, by mere chance, he hit it. The more 
closely one studies the evolutionary process, the more it 
seems a blind struggle, and the less it suggests an intelligent 
creator. Millions of ill-adapted creatures have prematurely 
perished for one that was lucky enough to live long enough to 
reproduce its type. We, the handful of fortunate survivors 
of this age-long struggle, assume that it was all intended for 
our benefit. So might some microbes, borne about by the 
air currents till they fell into a glass of milk, assume with 
complacent thankfulness that that congenial home was 
designed by a benevolent Creator for their needs. But how 
about the millions of similar microbes that the winds blew 
elsewhere to perish? * Cicero tells us of a temple of Poseidon 
where were hung many votive tablets offered in gratitude 
by those who had been saved from shipwreck. " But where," 
said a visitor, " are the offerings of those who were not saved? " 
In short, our complacency is like that of the prize-winners in 
a lottery; the process seems to us benevolent because we 
are the favored survivors. If we could look through the eyes 
of the myriads that have fallen by the way, we should not 
see any evidences of creative wisdom or love; we should see 
nothing but a merciless doom. 

Consider further the very partial nature of the success at- 
tained even with us who have survived. Even to-day, after 
millenniums of elimination of the unfit, the bodies of the best 
of us carry round a hundred marks of our hit-or-miss origin, 
vestiges of organs which, useful to our remote ancestors, 
serve no present use and are often of great danger to us in our 
present conditions of life. The vermiform appendix, the 
cause of appendicitis, is perhaps the best- known instance; 
1 This illustration is Paulsen's. 



308 PHILOSOPHICAL 

but even our most useful and most admired organs are bur- 
dened with useless inheritances and imperfectly adapted to 
their work. Man is too limited in his powers to reproduce 
these extraordinarily complex and highly unstable forms 
which nature, working with her vast forces through the 
ages, has brought into existence; but given the power, he 
could much improve upon her handiwork. Of all organs the 
eye is the most admired; but Nature, as the great physiolo- 
gist Helmholz said, " seems to have packed this organ with 
mistakes, as if with the avowed purpose of destroying 
any possible foundation for the theory that organs are [in- 
tentionally] adapted to their environment." And how many 
organs, or developments of existing organs, do we lack which 
would be of the greatest value to us! Look at the great ma- 
jority of men, heirs of all the ages: dull of vision they are, 
cloudy in mind, torn by passion, uncomely to look at, 
hardly capable of reason or of virtue, stumbling blindly for- 
ward, but unequally matched against a baffling and tor- 
menting environment. Look at the idiots, the deformed, the 
repulsively ugly, the underwit ted. How many successes 
have there been, and how many failures; or what degree 
of success has been attained in the best of us? 

Again, consider what seems to be the end designed. Is it 
human happiness, or virtue? Or the happiness of the whole 
sentient creation? Frankly, the marks of design, if such 
they are, do not point in that direction. If pleasure has been 
attained, so has pain; it looks as if both were but incidental, 
chance means to the end of mere survival. Nothing seems 
more clearly designed than rattlesnakes' fangs, tigers' claws, 
the suctorial organs of bedbugs and mosquitoes and fleas. 
Many adaptations ensure a living being's welfare; but many 
others, that show as clear marks of design, ensure his suffer- 
ing and death. 1 Creatures are made to prey upon and devour 

1 Cf. Mill, Nature: "If a tenth part of the pains which have been ex- 



CREATION AND DESIGN 309 

one another, parasites are ingeniously adapted to live upon 
our entrails, insects to sting us, the germs of smallpox and 
cholera and tuberculosis, and a thousand other diseases, 
are admirably fitted to feed and thrive at our expense 
within our bodies. The Designer, then, would seem to be 
interested only in adjustments for their own sake, and 
callous to the suffering they often produce. Do we wish to 
believe in a Designer of such a character as we can legiti- 
mately infer from a study of the things designed? l 

To discover the character of a Creator we must judge 
by the ends attained and the means employed. To find 
marks of design, infer a creator, and then assume that that 
Creator is to be identified with the God whom we worship, 
is a non sequitur. Plato was much more cautious, in postu- 
lating a Demiurge, or Creator, quite distinct from his God; 
the latter existed not as a first and efficient cause of things, 
but as a goal or magnet toward which the creation was being 
irresistibly drawn. But indeed, to speak of existing phenom- 

pended in finding benevolent adaptations in nature had been employed 
in collecting evidence to blacken the character of the Creator, what scope 
for comment would not have been found." 

1 Cf. James, Varieties of Religious Experience, p. 438: "Conceived as we 
now conceive them, as so many fortunate escapes from almost limitless 
processes of destruction, the benevolent adaptations which we find in Na- 
ture suggest a deity very different from the one who figured in the earlier 
versions of the argument." 

And Mill, Theism, pt. n: "The greater part of the design of which there 
is indication in nature, however wonderful its mechanism, is no evidence of 
any moral attributes, because the end to which it is directed, and its 
adaptation to which end is the evidence of its being directed to an end at 
all, is not a moral end; it is not the good of any sentient creature, it is but 
the qualified permanence, for a limited period, of the work itself." 

And Paulsen, op. cit., bk. I, chap, n: "Pleasure and pain are . . . means 
to the preservation of life. The animal is impelled by pain to escape injury 
and destruction, enticed by pleasure to seek what is useful and tends to 
preservation. And as far as I can see, the biologist would add, nature em- 
ploys both means without preference. If, however, one of them is pre- 
ferred, it is most likely pain rather than pleasure. . . . How can the [mere] 
existence of all these forms of life be the end of a mind similar to our own? " 



310 PHILOSOPHICAL 

ena as "ends attained" is to beg the whole question. A 
teleological interpretation of desirable or interesting facts 
is always alluring, but it cannot be more than a conjecture. 
And logically, the evil events are equally susceptible of 
teleological interpretation. The eruption of Mont Pelee 
and the earthquake at Messina can be considered as ends 
very nicely attained by the evolutionary process; the con- 
jecture that such catastrophes were designed stands on the 
same level with the conjecture that our blessings were de- 
signed. And so, until a satisfactory solution can be found for 
the problem of evil, it is a very dubious inference that one 
would draw from the ends actually attained in this world, 
and the method by which they are attained, to an In- 
telligence planning and producing them. 

Nevertheless, in spite of the logical weakness of the ar- 
gument and the dubious conclusion to which, if consistently 
carried out, it would apparently lead, most men will con- 
tinue to have, in their happier moments, an instinctive 
sense that so wonderful a world must have its origin in 
intelligence, and so beautiful a world in love. "When we 
call before us the full sweep of the world's advance from the 
time when it was a mere whirling and fiery mist, and see 
how marvellously out of its seeming chaos there grows order 
and intricate regularity, how the wonders of plant and 
brute life come into being, how finally man appears, the 
paragon of animals, with eyes to see the beauty of the 
world and reason to bring its forces into subjection, and, 
most of all, with the power to create the ideal world of truth 
and honor, righteousness and love ; when we see these super- 
sensible ideals more and more ruling his life, till we have the 
promise of a society wherein the poet's dream and the 
prophet's forecasting shall be an actual thing, — when all 
this, I say, comes before us, it is not easy to resign ourselves 



CREATION AND DESIGN 311 

to say that all has merely happened so." l The dystele- 
ologies in the world do not disprove a benevolent Designer, 
they simply counteract the evidence that we gather else- 
where for his existence. It is possible to conceive of other 
facts which, if they exist, render the existing universe com- 
patible with the idea of design by Benevolence. 2 These 
facts, being merely conjectural, cannot be used as evidence; 
but their possibility leaves a loophole for faith. 

First-cause argument: Pro: W. N. Clarke, Outline of Christian 
Theology, 9th ed., pp. 109-13. H. Schultz, Outline of Christian 
Apologetics, p. 103/. F. Aveling, God of Philosophy, chaps, v-vn. 
Con: J. M. E. McTaggart, Some Dogmas of Christianity, sees. 
156-60. H. Hoffding, Philosophy of Religion, pp. 35-41. G. Gallo- 
way, Philosophy of Religion, pp. 387-89. J. G. Schurman, Belief 
in God, lecture iv. J. S. Mill, Theism, pt. i. W. H. Mallock, Re- 
ligion as a Credible Doctrine, chap. viii. 

Special Phenomena: Pro: Clarke, op. cit., pp. 105-09. Schultz, 
p. 108/., 114^. Aveling, op. cit., chap, vni, xi, and p. 133 jf. 
B.P. Bowne, Theism, pp. 67-75, 119-22, 127-34, 251-54. A. M. 
Fairbairn, Philosophy of the Christian Religion, pp. 48-55. Con: 
Mallock, op. cit., chaps, ii-iii. 

Design: Pro: Aveling, op. cit., chap. rx. Clarke, pp. 113-17. 
Schultz, p. 105 ff. Bowne, op. cit., pp. 75-119. G. P. Fisher, 
Grounds of Theistic and Christian Belief, p. 30,$*. J. G. Schurman, 
Belief in God, lecture v. A. R. Wallace, The World of Life; A 
Manifestation of Creative Purpose, Directive Mind, and Ultimate 
Purpose. H. K. Rogers, Religious Conception of the World, pp. 93- 
120. Con: Mill, op. cit., last part of pt. i, pt. n. Mallock, op. cit., 
chap. ix. McTaggart, op. cit, sees. 161-65, 196-207. F. Paulsen, 
Introduction to Philosophy, bk. I., chap. n. F. C. S. Schiller, 
Humanism, viii. 

1 Rogers, op. cit, pp. 97-98. 2 See, e.g., pp. 380-82. 



CHAPTER XX 

THE INTERPRETATION OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 

Modern theology shows a widespread tendency to aban- 
don the older lines of inference, that drew conclusions from 
the existence or characteristics of the outer world, and to 
base its theory now upon the spiritual experience of man- 
kind. Such a procedure has been adopted in this volume 
as the only method that promises to be fruitful; the psy- 
chological phenomena surveyed in Part II are the data 
which theology has to work with. But the correct descrip- 
tion of these data and drawing of safe inferences therefrom 
is a much more difficult task than most pious people imagine. 
Introspection is notoriously liable to deception; and just be- 
cause the reality and significance of an experience is unques- 
tionable, we are not warranted in accepting any belief that 
the experiencer himself supposes to be implied by it, or at- 
tributing it to whatever he assigns as its cause. There is 
altogether too much confusion and looseness of thought in 
these matters; and if our religious philosophy is to stand the 
test of criticism we must be on the lookout for these pitfalls. 

What cautions should be observed in interpreting religious 
experience? 

(1) Observation errs most naturally through defect. 
Our faculties are capable of attending to but few aspects 
of a situation at once; and no one observes half of what goes 
on before his eyes or passes through his mind. Especially 
in meeting experience that is new to us are we bewildered 
and helpless; if we do not know what to look or listen for, 



THE INTERPRETATION OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 313 

we usually fail to catch the essential points. So a believer 
testifying to a supposed answer to prayer may entirely 
overlook some natural train of causes which would have 
brought about the desired result quite apart from his prayer. 
Or a neurasthenic healed, as he believes, by Christian 
Science may never consider the fact that his "treatments" 
coincided with a cessation of worry, an adoption of a more 
hygienic way of life, or some other change that may really 
be the important factor in his cure. 

(2) If we wish to prove a certain theory we are apt to 
overlook facts that impugn it. Our minds pounce upon 
every instance that makes for our pet beliefs, and ignore 
equally obvious instances that make against them. Cases 
of apparent answer to prayer accumulate in the believer's 
memory; the cases of apparently unanswered prayer pass 
out of his mind. He dwells lovingly upon the instances of 
fulfillment of Old Testament prophecy; the cases of non- 
fulfillment do not exist for him. Facts turn up daily that 
confirm his creed and bely his neighbor's; and all the time his 
neighbor sees a thousand signs that warrant his own belief 
and none or few that discredit it. The Christian Scientist 
sees people all about him who have been cured; the many 
who, though treated, have not been cured go unnoticed. 
In short, men see what they are looking for and are blind to 
facts that point the other way; observation and introspec- 
tion are usually onesided. 

(3) On the other hand, observation often errs through 
excess; that is, we think we have perceived more than our 
actual data. The mind is extraordinarily influenced by 
suggestion; a preconceived idea of what one is going to see 
or feel easily affects one's belief as to what one does see or 
feel. A child who believes in ghosts sees them in every 
bush, a nervous woman hears a burglar in every creak or 
rustle. So when New England divines testified to having 



314 PHILOSOPHICAL 

seen victims "bewitched" by some poor accused old woman, 
when Jesus spoke of casting devils out of some "possessed" 
person, when Paul thought of himself as having "seen the 
Lord," when the early Christians, in their moments of emo- 
tional ecstasy, felt themselves possessed by the Holy Spirit, 
or when a Hindu mystic speaks of himself as having attained 
to oneness with Brahma, it is conceivable that these un- 
questionably sincere witnesses, under the influence of pre- 
conceived ideas, read more into their experiences than was 
actually there. Where conversion is practised on a large 
scale, a certain sequence of experiences tends to become 
stereotyped. To a certain extent the emotions and ideas 
thus suggested are actually experienced by succeeding 
groups of converts; their experiences are different from what 
they would be under the influence of some other form of 
evangelism. But where the actual experiences fall short 
of the expected program they tend almost irresistibly to 
be filled out by the imagination with the expected and 
orthodox details. Thus while religious experience is often 
really formed or colored by antecedent belief, the descrip- 
tion of that experience still oftener mingles elements of the 
belief with the observation, so that the resulting concep- 
tions of the believer are an inextricable blend of fact and 
faith. 1 

1 Cf. G. Galloway, Philosophy of Religion, p. 255: "The fact that you 
have an experience does not guarantee the truth of the meaning you read 
into the experience." A typical instance may be quoted from the pen of one 
of our eminent contemporary theologians (Albert Parker Fitch, The College 
Course and the Preparation for Life, pp. 133-34) : "Religion is an experience 
of the inner life. It is our own personal awareness of God and self and 
sin; our own actual finding out, that when through Jesus we know God and 
come to Him, sin is forgiven and we are set free. That is n't a theory or a 
philosophy or a science. It is a fact in human life, which generation after 
generation of men have known for themselves. It does n't admit of argu- 
ment, it just is." I have italicized a statement here which, though ex- 
pressly and vigorously asserted to be a fact of our experience, cannot 
possibly be so. God's forgiveness of our sins does not take place in our 



THE INTERPRETATION OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 315 

(4) Much false recording of facts is due to errors of mem- 
ory, which is a tricky faculty at best. People vary greatly 
in the kind of psychic stuff of which their recollections are 
chiefly composed; those who remember in auditory or motor 
images are particularly unreliable in their visual memories, 
and vice versa. Especially in matters in which we have an 
interest is our memory liable to corruption by that interest. 
Autobiographies, chronicles of wars, and religious histories 
are especially to be accepted with caution. It is so easy, in 
looking back, to remember things a little more in accord 
with the way they ought to have been than with the way 
they were. 1 The natural tendency to embellish an incident 
and make a good story out of it, the subconscious desire to 
impress the listener, to extol a hero, to prove a point, to make 
converts, must continually be discounted by the historian. 
Where strong feelings or prejudices enter in, few men are to 
be trusted, however honest they may mean to be, in the 
statement of their own past experiences. Where a story 
has passed from mouth to mouth and reaches us only at 
second or third or tenth hand, as in the case of the Gospel 
narratives, it is only with the utmost pains, by a continual 
process of reading between the lines and watching for the 
subtlest signs, that the historian can become reasonably 
sure of an event. 2 

conscious experience; at the most, we have a feeling of relief from remorse, 
renewed inner peace, and a new outflow of love, which we may take as 
signs of forgiveness — if we believe in the existence of a God who forgives. 
Those inner experiences themselves do not contain the fact of forgiveness, 
and may conceivably exist without any such fact being true. 

1 Cf. H. Miinsterberg, On the Witness Stand, p. 58: "We find an abun- 
dance of cases reported which seem to prove that either prophetic fortune 
tellers or inspired dreams have anticipated the real future of a man's life 
with the subtlest details and with the most uncanny foresight. But as 
soon as we examine these wonderful stories, we find that the coincidences 
are surprising only in those cases in which the dreams and the prophecies 
have been written down after the realization." 

2 Cf. what was said above, on p. 63 and pp. 269-73. 



316 PHILOSOPHICAL 

(5) Many unintentional misstatements of observation or 
misunderstandings on the part of others result from a lack 
of realization of the exact meaning of words. Even with 
words that have a precise and generally accepted value, 
extraordinary divergences of description occur among men 
of quite similar training and habits. 1 In the use of words 
which have no such fixed and ascertainable meanings still 
greater divergences obtain. Did Paul mean by his doctrine 
of salvation by "faith" what the framers of the Athanasian 
creed took him to mean? Did Jesus, when (or if) he spoke 
of himself as Son of God, mean to imply what later orthodoxy 
read into those words? When the early Christians spoke of 
the presence of the Holy Spirit (or should we read "a holy 
spirit," uncapitalized?) did they refer to the Third Per- 
son of a trinitarian God? The word "God" is notoriously 
ambiguous; the devout theist who has his faith mightily 
cheered by a First Cause argument, or some work of idealistic 
metaphysics, or some account of mystical experience, utterly 
fails to realize that the "God" reached in those ways may 
have little or nothing in common with the God of his reli- 
gious life. The use of an identical word hides the most 
radical differences in conception; and many a man's beliefs 
rest largely upon the testimony or faith of other men whose 
beliefs are really fundamentally alien to his own. Religious 
experience is peculiarly apt to be vague, confused, inarticu- 
late; there is an utter lack of a precise and generally accepted 
vocabulary for its various phases. Consequently, in no 
realm is there more verbal confusion or more fallacious 
reasoning. 

1 Cf. Professor Miinsterberg's account of his experiments with his Har- 
vard students in the book just referred to. In answer, e.g., to a question 
how long a certain event that took place before their eyes lasted, some 
called the time two or three times as long as others. Equally divergent 
answers were given to such questions as, How far? How often? How many? 
How fast? 



THE INTERPRETATION OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 317 

(6) Experiences themselves do not inform us of their 
causes; to discover them requires a process of further 
observation, comparison, and inference, which must be 
subject to the ordinary laws of logic. But the man who is 
in the glow of a great emotional experience is in no mood 
for cool analysis, for the proper application of logical 
tests, the isolation of factors, the elimination of assumptions. 
He inevitably explains his experience in terms of whatever 
conceptions he has at hand, and considers that explanation 
to be as assured as the experience itself. For example, many 
or all of the striking experiences that have reinforced for 
their subjects the belief in supernatural Beings may con- 
ceivably be attributable merely to invasions into the ordi- 
nary consciousness from what we now call the "subliminal" 
region of our minds. Certain temperaments are liable to 
visions, automatisms, possessions, inexplicable to the sub- 
ject and inspiring a sense of awe and wonder, of terror or 
rapture, according to their nature. These phenomena are 
psychologically similar whether they have any religious 
significance to the subject or not. The vision of the apostle 
Paul, the "speaking with tongues" of the early Christians, 
the trances of the saints, are only in the happiness they 
gave and the belief they fostered, not in their psychological 
nature, different from a million other visions and possessions 
and trances which have only brought to their subjects un- 
easiness or alarm. They no doubt accelerated the spread of 
Christianity, as of other religions — Mohammed was par- 
ticularly subject to such experiences. They have produced 
spiritualism in our day. The Society for Psychical Re- 
search has investigated many thousands of cases, and the 
books on pathological psychology are full of them. Some of 
them are as yet but dimly understood. We are certainly not 
yet in a position to be dogmatic about these experiences, one 
way or the other. But the point is that if, for example, the 



318 PHILOSOPHICAL 

sound of the Saviour's voice or the vision of his face that 
comes to the saint is a proof of the outer reality of this voice 
or face, then the number of objective realities equally well 
authenticated by psychologically similar sounds and sights 
is appalling. 

At any rate, whether a given visual experience is really 
a veridical vision of Christ, whether a given auditory ex- 
perience is really the voice of Christ, or of God, or of the 
angel Gabriel (as in the case of Mohammed), cannot be 
decided by the believer's conviction; the experiences may 
be just as they are and yet be merely subjective, due to 
the previous excited condition of his mind and nerves. Only 
some external test can determine their cause. Sometimes 
the inference is so unconscious that the inferred cause 
figures in the subject's thoughts as an actual part of the 
experience itself (as in paragraph (3) above) ; at other times 
the inference is conscious but irresistible, as in St. Theresa's 
statement, "I felt my soul inflamed by ardent love to God; 
this love was evidently supernatural, for I knew not what 
had set it alight in me and I myself had done nothing in 
the matter." l But in any case, what we report as a cer- 
tainty of experience is very likely to be colored by inference ; 
the statement intended to describe the experience really 
includes a theory of the cause of the experience. 2 

(7) A very different sort of error is made by those ra- 
tionalists who assume that if they can explain a religious 

1 Quoted by H. Hoffding, Philosophy of Religion, p. 102. 

2 Cf. Mill, Logic, bk. iv, chap, i, sec. 2: "In almost every act of our per- 
ceiving faculties, observation and inference are intimately blended. What 
we are said to observe is usually a compound result, of which one-tenth 
may be observation, and the remaining nine- tenths inference." And 
Galloway, op. cit., p. 255: "The so-called data of religious experience are 
not pure data. They imply a system of beliefs, and involve, in a greater 
or less degree, a process of interpretation . . . We shall hardly understand 
the diversified character of religious experience in different races and 
civilizations, if we do not keep this in mind." 



THE INTERPRETATION OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 319 

man's experience in natural terms they have explained away 
the significance of the experience. Modern psychology is 
making the attempt, at least, to find natural causes for the 
phenomena of conversion, faith-healing, visions, photisms, 
glossolalia, and all the other peculiarly religious experiences. 
But if this attempt is successful, will God be ruled out of the 
world? On the contrary, this will simply turn out to be the 
way in which God works in the world. Paul has been dis- 
paraged as an epileptic, and it is commonly pointed out 
that the saints as a class are "abnormal," "morbid," "ec- 
centric," or "psychopathic"; their experiences then, being 
due to pathological conditions, are to be rejected as no 
longer illuminating. It is said that the insane asylums are 
full of people whose experiences are, from the psychological 
point of view, rather strikingly similar. But what of it? 
It may be that religious insight is most penetrating in those 
whose minds are close to the verge of, or actually in, a con- 
dition that unfits them for the ordinary business of life. 
The same phenomenon is noted often in the case of poets 
and musicians. The abnormal is, after all, merely the un- 
usual; and the man best fitted for "practical" affairs may 
have least of value to tell us in these higher realms. So we 
may let the students of abnormal psychology study the 
experiences of the saints and trace what natural laws they 
can. There may be something gruesome about this analysis 
and comparative study, as there is about embryology and 
all dissection. But the value or truth of an experience has 
nothing to do with its origins or the physical laws that con- 
dition it; and we must not let these physiologists of revela- 
tion disturb our appraisal of the worth and truth of what 
religious experience has to reveal. 1 

1 I wish it were possible to quote here the entire first chapter of James's 
Varieties of Religious Experience, which so forcibly and delightfully discusses 
this error — which he labels "medical materialism." 



320 PHILOSOPHICAL 

(8) Finally, the student must beware of ignoring or doing 
too scanty justice to forms of experience which he has not 
himself had, or which do not form a part of the orthodox 
tradition of his community. An investigator who has no 
capacity for mystical experiences is apt to dismiss them all 
as mere moonshine. And the Christian theologian is apt, 
in interpreting such experiences, to fix his attention upon 
Christian mysticism entirely and ignore the great field of 
non-Christian mystical experiences. What is not intelligible 
in terms of one's own experience generally seems unreal, or 
else unimportant. It is easy to assume that an experience 
that seems to you fantastic, or is out of line with your 
world- view, has been exaggerated or wrongly described; and 
if rationalists have not reached the conclusions which the 
theologians have reached, it may well be in part because 
they have not had the same data to go on. 1 So, if we must 
be critical of alleged experiences, we must also be open- 
minded toward them. There probably are, as Hamlet said, 
more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our 
philosophy; and we are not yet in a position to dismiss any 
alleged experiences as inherently impossible. They may be 
misnamed, and may mingle interpretation with their record 
of fact; but where there is much smoke there is apt to be 
some fire. And even if an experience has its elements of 
illusion or delusion, it may yet contain elements of precious 
truth, and be of importance for our theory of religion. 

We may now consider briefly the warrant for some in- 
ferences commonly drawn from certain concrete types of re- 
ligious experience. 

I. The voice of conscience. The undeniable authority of 
conscience has seemed to many to imply the existence of a 

1 For an able presentation of this point, see Journal of Philosophy, Psy- 
chology, and Scientific Methods, vol. 10, p. 296. 



THE INTERPRETATION OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 321 

personal law-giving God. Whence this command that con- 
tradicts our personal desires and imposes itself upon our 
wills, if it be not the voice of such a Being in our hearts? 
"From the existence within us of this strong feeling of 
responsibility, this rooted sense of duty, this consciousness 
of obligation, pervading all our being and colouring all our 
thoughts and actions, the existence of a being to whom we 
are each personally responsible is to be directly inferred." 1 

But a study of any modern scientific treatise on ethics will 
make plain the reasons for the authority of conscience, an 
authority which could not be enhanced by any super- 
natural behest. No voice from without, even of a Creator 
and Ruler of the universe, could alter the duties that inhere 
in the very nature and conditions of human life now that 
it exists; such a command could not make right other than 
right, or wrong other than wrong. If God is a conscious 
Being, aware of and interested in our fortunes, he does no 
doubt wish us to do right; but the Tightness or wrongness 
of an act is independent of his desire, and just as real if 
there be no such Being interested in it. Right and wrong 
are terms applicable to human actions according to their 
normal results; actions that conduce to the welfare of man- 
kind we call right, those that tend to lessen it, wrong. The 
individual has to submit his personal will to the universal 
good, his momentary will to his own ultimate good and that 
of his fellows. This is, in a word, the basis of duty and re- 
sponsibility. 

Moreover, a man cannot stop to weigh and consider in 
each separate case of conduct, or trust his will to keep free 
from selfish impulses and irrational desires. So conscience 
has been developed. It is the voice of the experience and 
needs of the race speaking in a man's heart. It is, indeed, 
forever readjusting itself to fit changing needs and impulses; 
1 F. Aveling, The God of Philosophy, p. 115. 



322 PHILOSOPHICAL 

but at any given time and to any individual it comes with 
the authority of his own accumulated experience and the 
wider experience of the society whose traditions he uncon- 
sciously accepts. Thus neither the fact of duty and re- 
sponsibility, on the one hand, nor the sense of duty and 
responsibility, on the other, need any supernatural postu- 
lates for their explanation. We are responsible to our own 
future selves and to all those whom our conduct affects; that 
we should feel this responsibility as a vague and half -under- 
stood pressure within our own minds is a natural result of 
the social influences under which we have grown up. 

This should not be taken to mean that God is not re- 
vealed in the moral life and in conscience. In Goethe's 
drama, Thoas deprecates Iphigenia's conscientious purpose 
with the skeptical remark, "It is no God, but thine own 
heart that speaks"; but she replies, "'T is only through our 
hearts they speak to us." The discovery of the natural 
function of morality and the natural genesis of conscience 
do not lead to atheism; the Power which is working through 
natural channels to produce these good results, and, in a 
sense, speaking in our hearts, we may still call God. But 
that this Power is conscious, personal, purposive, or all- 
powerful, these facts cannot honestly be said to imply. 

II. Conversion. The experiences of abrupt conversion, 
of which we spoke in an earlier chapter, have seemed, to 
many, a witness of supernatural agency; this inrush of a new 
spirit, often to the astonishment of the subject, this new joy 
and power for right living — how else can it be explained 
than as the working of Divine Grace in the heart? Bishop 
McConnell writes, for example, "What conclusion can we 
reach save that the experiences point to the reality of the 
forces which the seekers assume to be at work?" l 

The workings of a Divine Power we may indeed call such 
1 Constructive Quarterly, vol. 1, p. 129. 



THE INTERPRETATION OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 323 

beneficent experiences. But modern psychology is ven- 
turing to explain those workings in purely natural terms; 
and indeed, since closely similar phenomena occur in con- 
nection with many incompatible religions, they can hardly 
substantiate any particular one of the numerous super- 
natural causes assigned. There have, for that matter, been 
conversions as striking as those the theologians point to 
quite apart from any belief in the supernatural, deeply 
emotional conversions from selfishness to self-surrender, 
from vice to self-mastery, from credulity to atheism. 1 

For the comprehension of these experiences, especially, 
much illumination has come from the study of "the sub- 
conscious." Many a change of mood and character, we are 
learning, ripens in the dark, as it were, before being con- 
sciously recognized; and often a new mood or impulse sud- 
denly invades our consciousness, coming from this hidden 
region into the broad daylight of our minds. There are 
crises and upheavals in our mental life as well as in the life 
of nature. Some of these crises bring about a change for the 
worse, some for the better; the latter sort of abrupt change 
has been cultivated by the Church under the name of con- 
version. At such times the mind of the believer is filled with 
the belief in a supernatural power which may work upon 
him, and is ready to attribute his change of heart to that 

1 Cf. James, Varieties of Religious Experience, p. Ill: "A form of 
regeneration by relaxing, by letting go, psychologically indistinguishable 
from the Lutheran justification by faith and the Wesleyan acceptance of 
free grace, is within the reach of persons who have no conception of sin 
and care nothing for the Lutheran theology." J. H. Leuba (in American 
Journal of Psychology, vol. 7, p. 343) records the remarkable and perma- 
nent conversion of the great temperance lecturer, John B. Gough, saying, 
"It is practically the conversion of an atheist; neither God nor Christ is 
mentioned." He goes on to say: "Names, persons, and representations — 
a sympathetic fellow-man, Jesus Christ, or God — are practically one, in 
so far as they are able to determine the same life of love. . . . What imports 
is that the regenerating psychic process takes place; through what instru- 
ment, matters little." 



324 PHILOSOPHICAL 

agency. But there is not necessarily to the psychologist 
anything more miraculous in these religious conversions 
than in any other changes of heart. When a young man 
who has lived for himself falls in love; when, his latent pa- 
triotism suddenly aroused, he answers the call of his coun- 
try and offers his life in her service, his center of interest 
has shifted as completely as that of a religious convert. 
Unsuspected susceptibilities in his heart, dormant loves and 
passions, are awakened and become the dominant interest. 1 
Conversion is usually preceded by a period of restless- 
ness and conflicting impulses. Two natures struggle in the 
breast: the lower self kicks against the pricks, still holding 
sway and seeming to be the real self, while all the time the 
higher passions are smouldering underneath, ready to burst 
forth at the proper stimulus and become a consuming flame. 
Similar abrupt changes of equilibrium often occur in the 
outer world ; in the spring, after weeks of gradual thawing, 
suddenly the ice in a river breaks up. So may the cold self- 
ishness of a heart be slowly but invisibly melted, till finally 
it gives way and the stream of love flows out in a torrent all 
the stronger for having been so long dammed up. The 
forces playing upon the heart may be storing up their ef- 
fects invisibly; the youth may not realize that he is changing; 
but gradually his unselfish impulses, his longings for purity 
and loyalty and deliverance from sin, are ripening, maturing, 

a Cf. Leuba again (American Journal of Psychology, vol. 1, p. 75): "The 
wonderful vitalizing effect of Faith is not, as many suppose, its exclusive 
property. Are not these characteristics also those of every form of sthenic 
emotion — ■ of anger, of jealousy, of love? May not love come upon us with 
the suddenness of a clap of thunder; may it not transport us to the seventh 
heaven; may it not, as it were, push our energies into specific channels and 
thus enormously reinforce our reactions to the side of life upon which love 
shines and at the same time make us irresponsive to the other calls of 
life? May it not inspire us with a non-rational, boundless confidence in 
the object of our love and in whatever notion may, in our mind, be at- 
tached to it? Observe, also, that love, like Faith, needs in order to break 
out but the slightest outward incentive or possibly none at all." 



THE INTERPRETATION OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 325 

till some stimulus, just enough to change the equilibrium, 
discharges them into the full sunlight of consciousness, and 
he feels himself suddenly a new man. 1 That this experi- 
ence is supernatural cannot be proved from its apparent 
abruptness. 

III. Faith-healing. A closely similar class of experiences 
which seem to attest definite theological beliefs are the 
physical cures that so frequently follow on faith. The heal- 
ing miracles of Christ and the apostles, the cures wrought 
by Catholic relics, by Christian Scientists, by faith-curers, 
or by prayer, very naturally inspire in the man who is cured 
a belief in the truth of the doctrine by or upon belief in 
which he is cured. This was one of the important factors in 
the growth of the primitive Christian church; and the lapse 
in the practice of healing has given rise in recent times 
to several extra-orthodox bodies, which rest the truth of 
their doctrine upon the practical success of their method. 2 

1 C. James again, op. tit., pp. 228-37: '"'It is natural that those who have 
personally traversed such an experience should carry away a feeling of its 
being a miracle rather than a natural process. . . . [But] so many peculiari- 
ties in them remind us of what we find outside of conversion that we are 
tempted to class them along with other automatisms, and to suspect that 
what makes the difference between a sudden and a gradual convert is not 
necessarily the presence of divine miracle in the case of one and of some- 
thing less divine in that of the other, but rather a simple psychological 
peculiarity, the fact, namely, that in the recipient of the more instantan- 
eous Grace we have one of those Subjects who are in possession of a large 
region in which mental work can go on subliminally, and from which 
invasive experiences, abruptly upsetting the equilibrium of the primary 
consciousness, may come." 

2 There can be no doubt of the actuality of vast numbers of these alleged 
cures, many of them very striking. Cf., for one instance out of thousands, 
O. Holtzmann, Life of Jesus (Eng. tr.), p. 193: "When the Holy Coat was 
displayed at Treves in the year 1891, the sight of the relic, seen with the 
eye of faith, did, as an actual fact, according to the perfectly trustworthy 
evidence of German physicians of unimpeachable reputation, effect in 
eleven cases cures for which no other medical reasons whatever could be 
offered. ... [A description of the cases follows.] . . . Facts like these, 
which are not really open to question, will make Jesus' works of healing 
also seem not impossible." Not, of course, that we need accept uncritically 
every story of his healing! 



326 PHILOSOPHICAL 

But modern physiology may not need the hypothesis of 
supernatural causation. It recognizes that the bodily ac- 
tivities which are controlled or influenced by the sympa- 
thetic nervous system can be disorganized or paralyzed by 
fear or anxiety or mental depression, or a multitude of other 
causes, and greatly stimulated by confidence and hope and 
joy. It is not the particular theological belief, much less the 
object of the belief , that works the cure; it is the tonic effect 
of the patient's faith that gives the powers of the body the 
needed stimulus to assert themselves and overcome the 
malady. 1 Whether the belief is in something real or in 
something imaginary seems not to matter, so long as the be- 
liever has the necessary faith. This power of the mind over 
the body is receiving at last the recognition it deserves 
from scientific students; and the art of psychotherapy is 
becoming an increasingly important part of medical study. 
As striking cures, perhaps, as ever saint or relic or Christian 
Scientist performed are being wrought to-day, without the 
aid of any theological belief, by the ordinary physician who 
has learned to practise skillfully the art of "suggestion." 
Certainly, if all the beliefs which have cured men were true, 
truth would be a very variable or self -contradictory thing! 
But it " is, indeed, one of the central dangers of all non- 
medical suggestive cures, that while any belief may cure, 
through the mere emotional power of the act of believing, 
the content of the belief gains an undeserved appearance 
of truth." 2 

IV. Mysticism and intuition. The general nature of the 
mystical experiences we have briefly described in an earlier 
chapter. 3 Persons of a certain temperament are liable to 

1 It is noteworthy that even Jesus could perform few healing acts at 
Nazareth, his own home — "because of their unbelief." See Mark 6: 5-6. 
Matt. 13: 58. 

2 H. Miinsterberg, Psychotherapy, p. 381. 

3 See above, pp. 137-33, 203-03. 



THE INTERPRETATION OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 327 

invasion by such moments of ecstasy without any conscious 
endeavor after them, others can cultivate them; in either 
case, if they are believers in some form of theism, the ex- 
altation of spirit inevitably seems an inpouring of the Divine 
Life. And there can be no objection to recognizing such 
an experience as a communion with God; indeed, it is 
through just such experiences, among others, that our con- 
ception of God is formed. But, as with the experiences we 
have been considering, there is a danger that the particu- 
lar antecedent conceptions of the believer, being imported 
into and coloring the experience, should receive in his mind 
unwarrantable corroboration from it. The mystic may say, 
for example, that he has " felt the boundless love of God," 
that " the mystery of the Trinity has been revealed to him," 
that " Christ came into his heart with assurance of forgive- 
ness." That is, the experiences are taken to be not merely 
subjective but objective, not merely emotional, but per- 
ceptional; they are felt to have supernatural implications, to 
be inexplicable in terms of preceding conscious states plus 
the natural influences of the environment, and therefore 
to afford proof of the objective existence of the God or 
Saviour upon whom the subject's mind has been fixed. To 
many a mystic the reality of this Being with whom he has 
felt himself to be communing is as unquestionable as that 
of the human beings with whom he talks, and his personal- 
ity and love equally assured. 

But our belief in other human minds is not only instinc- 
tive, it is corroborated by a vast amount of evidence. It is 
the only plausible hypothesis to account for multitudes of 
our experiences which are inexplicable in terms of ante- 
cedent subjective states. Is it so with the mystical states? 
Or are they merely subjective, explicable without the hy- 
pothesis of a divine mind affecting them, and affording us 
therefore no avenue to extra-psychological truth? What- 



328 PHILOSOPHICAL 

ever our answer may be — and the matter is hotly dis- 
puted — we must be willing to subject mystical experiences, 
like all others, to the criticism of the intellect. Any single 
type of supposed "perception" is always to be doubted 
until confirmed by other senses. " The fact that experiences 
such as those called mystical are different in kind from 
ordinary experiences does not exempt their deliverances 
from the authority of the test of truth. And unless we aban- 
don all rational .standards of thinking, we are bound to 
conclude that mystical experiences may testify to error." * 
Again, the exact psychological inferences to be drawn 
from these mental states, their transcendent implications, 
if they have any, will be a difficult matter to determine. 
For there have been mystics in all the religions; and the 
truth so immediately "known" has been one thing for one 
and quite the opposite for another. " The fact is that the 
mystical feeling of enlargement, unison, and emancipation 
has no specific intellectual content whatever of its own. It 
is capable of forming matrimonial alliances with material 
furnished by the most diverse philosophies and theologies, 
provided only they can find a place in their framework for 
its peculiar emotional mood. We have no right, therefore, 
to invoke its prestige as distinctly in favor of any special 
belief. . . . [Indeed] religious mysticism is only one half of 
mysticism. ... It is evident that from the point of view 
of their psychological mechanism, the classic mysticism and 
these lower mysticisms spring from the same mental level, 
from that great subliminal or transmarginal region of which 
science is beginning to admit the existence, but of which so 
little is really known. That region contains every kind of 
matter: * seraph and snake' abide there side by side. To 
come from thence is no infallible credential. What comes 
must be sifted and tested, and run the gauntlet of confron- 

1 Bode, Logic, p. 249. 



THE INTERPRETATION OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 329 

tation with the total context of experience, just like what 
comes from the outer world of sense." l 

The same two criticisms are applicable to the arguments 
of those who assert that the direct knowledge of God is not 
a matter of occasional and extraordinary experience, but is 
open to all — that man has a " religious sense," if he will but 
use it. Just what this supposed sense is, what its organ and 
physical mechanism, we are never told; its very existence 
remains hypothetical, with nothing to vouch for it but the 
word of those who claim to possess it. But even if clear 
evidence of the existence of such a "sense" were offered, its 
dicta would have to submit to sifting at the hands of the 
intellect and the other senses. We know that a seen object 
is an objective reality because we can also touch or hear or 
smell it, or in some way check up our optical sensations; 
otherwise we suspect them to be mere hallucinations or 
malobservations. So with the data offered by a "religious 
sense"; they must be corroborated by the rest of our ex- 
perience. And since we find, as a matter of fact, that the 
"religious sense" of one man perceives one kind of a God, 
and that of another a radically different God, we not un- 
naturally suspect that this "sense" is a merely supposed 

1 James, oj>. cit., pp. 425-27. Cf. G. L. Dickinson, Religion, A Criticism and 
a Forecast, pp. 40-41: "All of these revelations cannot be true. One may 
be true and the others false. But in that case we must find our criterion of 
truth and falsehood somewhere else than in the subjective certainty of the 
converted person. ... It is indisputable that the test of validity must be 
sought somewhere else than in the sense of certainty felt by the person 
who claims to have had the revelation. In other words, the truth of a doc- 
trine supposed to be thus conveyed, or the goodness of a moral intuition, 
must be sifted, before they can be accepted, by the ordinary critical proc- 
esses; and, except as the result of such a sifting, performed deliberately 
again and again, in calm and normal moments, no man who is at once re- 
ligious, honest, and intelligent, will or ought to accept the deliverances of 
any so-called revelation of this type." 

As Galloway puts it (Philosophy of Religion, p. 238) : "The psychological 
feeling of certainty does not in itself give the assurance of epistemological 
validity." 



330 PHILOSOPHICAL 

source and explanation of those deep-rooted beliefs that 
in most men's minds antedate and outlive argument and 
evidence. 

Such sub-rational beliefs form a large part of the mental 
equipment of most of us. But it is better to label them as 
prejudices, preconceptions, suspicions, conjectures, or hopes. 
At best we may call them intuitions, implying by that 
word our belief that in spite of the lack of supporting evi- 
dence they point us toward the truth. So, of course, they 
may. But we must be honest enough to confess that intu- 
ition can give us only possibilities, not assured knowledge. 
We may think of them as coming from "deeper levels" of 
our nature, or as being "super-rational," and so a sort of 
extra eye; and we may personally pin our trust to them. But 
until we can show solid reasons for believing in these "in- 
tuitions," they can become no more than private sources of 
comfort, and suggestions for our mind to work upon. Until 
we have tangible evidence to go on we can never be sure 
that they are anything but prejudices or delusions. 

Examples of arguments: G. P. Fisher, Grounds of Theistic and 
Christian Belief, chaps, rv-vi. D. A. Curtis, The Christian Faith, 
chap. xxvi. W. N. Clarke, Outline of Christian Theology, pp. 
123-26; Christian Doctrine of God, chap, iv, sec. 3. 

Criticisms: J. S. Mill, Logic, bk. iv, chap, i, Theism, pt. I, toward 
end. J. H. Leuba, Psychological Study of Religion, chap. xi. G. B. 
Cutten, Psychological Phenomena of Christianity, chaps, i, n, xxi. 
J. M. E. McTaggart, Some Dogmas of Christianity, chap. n. 
W. James, Varieties of Religious Experience, chap. i. Hibbert 
Journal, vol. 4, p. 485. 

The Interpretation of Mysticism: H. Delacroix, Etudes d'His- 
toire et de Psychologic du Mysticisme. W. E. Hocking, Meaning 
of God in Human Experience, pt. v. James, op. cit., chap, ni, 
xvi, xvn. B. W. Bode, Outline of Logic, pp. 247-52. G. Santa- 
yana, Poetry and Religion, chap. I. Mind, (N.S.), vol. 14, p. 15. 

The Interpretation of Faith-healing: G. A. Coe, Spiritual Life, 
chap. rv. E. Worcester, Religion and Medicine, Christian Religion 



THE INTERPRETATION OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 331 

as a Healing Power. H. Miinsterberg, Psychotherapy. L. P. 
Powell, Christian Science, chap. vn. Cutten, op. cit., chap. xv. 
P. Dubois, The Influence of the Mind upon the Body. C. Lavaud, 
GuSrison par la Foi. American Journal of Theology, vol. 14, p. 533. 



CHAPTER XXI 

PRAGMATIC ARGUMENTS 

The discouraging lack of evidence as yet found by a 
strictly scientific method to support traditional theological 
beliefs has given rise in recent years to a number of closely 
related arguments which aim to base the proof of dogma 
upon practical needs in place of evidence. These arguments 
we may group under the rather loose and fluctuating term 
"pragmatism"; and to the consideration of some of their 
commoner variations we may now turn. 

Can we trust a belief : 

Z. Because its untruth would be intolerable? The apostle 
Paul, in a familiar passage, wrote: "If there be no resurrec- 
tion of the dead, then is Christ not risen; and if Christ be 
not risen, then is our preaching vain, and your faith is also 
vain. ... If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are 
of all men most miserable. ... If the dead rise not, let us 
eat and drink, for to-morrow we die." x To him the possibil- 
ity of his being deceived was so abhorrent that his mind 
refused to entertain it; the implications of such a situation 
were so unpleasant that it could not be the true situation. 
In similar vein we are told by many modern apologists that 
atheism must be mistaken because it is so dreadful and 
dangerous: it drives men to despair, it paralyzes their ener- 
gies, it leads naturally to a reckless disregard of morality. 
Schiller tells us that the belief in God and immortality will 
alone save us, and must therefore be accepted; our phi- 

i 1 Cor. 15: 13, 14, 19, 32. 



PRAGMATIC ARGUMENTS 333 

losophy must " support, or at least not paralyze, moral ef- 
fort." x Mallock tells us that although "scientific obser- 
vation and analysis can discover no place in the universe" 
for God, and though " the mind is incapable of representing 
consistently to itself" the theistic idea, yet "our whole 
system of practical life involves the assertion " of it. " Some 
system of doctrine equivalent in its effects to the doctrines 
of theistic religion is an element absolutely essential to the 
higher civilization of man." 2 In fine, these beliefs are es- 
sential to an optimistic view of the universe, and optimism 
is our duty; they are essential to keep man moral, so they 
must be true. Their untruth would be intolerable. 

This argument, which has properly been called the "re- 
ductio ad horrendum" may be answered in several ways: — 

(1) Perhaps the universe is "intolerably" bad; how can 
we know until we investigate? What right have we to as- 
sume that it is constructed so as to comfort and inspire us? 
If it is n't, we must make the best of it. We may hide 
our heads, like the ostrich, from so unpleasant a thought; 
but wincing and averting our eyes will not alter the facts, 
whatever they are. Our lives are continually offering in- 
stances of catastrophes that would have been intolerable to 
contemplate that have nevertheless come to pass; we have 
daily evidence of Nature's indifference to our hopes and 
desires. It is notorious that many of our purest longings 
remain unfulfilled. If optimism means being cheery under 
all circumstances, then optimism is clearly our duty; if it 
means assuming, in despite or in advance of the evidence, 
that the world is as we should like it, then it may still be 
our duty, and is certainly our privilege, to cultivate such a 
faith; but such an attitude of ours can in no wise inform 
us of what the cosmic facts really are. 

1 Humanism, pp. 347, 5. 

2 Religion as a Credible Doctrine, pp. 249, 259. 



334 PHILOSOPHICAL 

(2) The loss of beliefs that once seemed essential to men's 
happiness may after all prove not intolerable. Often they 
are replaced by other equally stimulating beliefs. It may be 
that only a part of a complex belief is really essential to a 
man's happiness, and that part may be preserved in a new 
view. Thus, some of those who believe in " creative evolu- 
tion" — a tendency inherent in the universe to develop of 
itself toward ideals — maintain that for them it quite satis- 
factorily takes the place of the theistic conception. Some 
who find it impossible to believe in personal immortality 
declare that "ideal immortality" is a worthy and inspiring 
substitute. Comte felt that his natural religion could supply 
all the consolation and inspiration of the current superna- 
tural doctrines. " Tastes differ and tastes change. A Viking 
or a Maori warrior might well find that the prospect of an 
immortality without fighting made the universe intoler- 
able." * Indeed, men can stand even a complete loss of 
theological beliefs without a paralysis of their practical life. 
It is a matter for plain observation that atheists are about 
as often energetic and good and happy as theists; men who 
are agnostic with regard to a future life nevertheless act 
with enthusiasm and joy while they live. It is, after all, a 
gratuitous apprehension to fear that men are going to sit 
still and fold their hands and die of despair, or plunge into 
depths of depravity, if they cease to credit what seems to 
the believer so essential. There is very little actual relation 
between cosmic beliefs and morality or energy or happiness. 
What is agonizing and paralyzing is the transition-period, 
during which a belief is being renounced, and while the 
sweetness which it once had for the heart refuses to be for- 
gotten. The man bred to a certain cosmic conception may 
indeed never get over the loss of it. But his children, who 
grow up without those beliefs, will very likely never feel 
1 McTaggart, op. cit, p. 52. 



PRAGMATIC ARGUMENTS 835 

their lack. It is a matter of adjustment; we can adapt our- 
selves to altered conditions, mental as well as physical, far 
more easily than we suppose. 1 

(3) If it be said that men can get along without the the- 
istic beliefs — or what not — merely in their unrenective 
hours, and because they are short-sighted and illogical, it 
may be replied that the lack of logic is rather with those 
who suppose their particular beliefs to be a necessary impli- 
cation of morality or of a hopeful view of the universe. The 
reasons for morality, at least, are purely natural and have 
nothing to fear from theological skepticism; morality being 
simply the best way to live, that way remains the best way 
even if there be no personal God or no heaven. If any men 
are restrained from vice and sin simply by their fear of 
God's anger, or by the hope of reward, they are in sad need 
of moral education. To "eat, drink, and be merry" — if 
that means to indulge in immoral dissipation — is a short- 
sighted and foolish philosophy of life, even if this life be all. 
Teach men the rationale of morality and it will no more be 
disturbed by theological perturbations than agriculture or 
transportation. A sensible man would not cease to want to 
live in the best way simply because life was brief and there 

1 Professor Pitkin (in Journal of Philosophy, Psychology, and Scientific 
Methods, vol. 8, p. 302) calls attention to "the normal man's invincible 
indifference in practical life to the intellectualist's demand that we allow 
metaphysics to sour our breakfast porridge and paralyze the nerves which 
give us a good time. What may be truth of the cosmos through all the 
reaches of time is not, as a matter of fact, true of little spots in it at some 
brief moments; and men, who live and move only in little spots and only 
at brief moments, always have reacted and always will react only to these 
intimate near tracts of time and space." It is not true "that a theory about 
the cosmic drift must regulate our practical attitudes, feeling, and conduct 
from moment to moment," or that "if the world isn't engineered so as to 
guarantee unlimited bliss for all hands, your knowledge of this must 
logically pervade your dinner, the evening at the theatre, and to-morrow's 
boat-ride; must, in short, throw its lights or its shadows across each hour. 
... As a matter of psychological fact, these lights and shadows do not fall 
upon men's paths as the logic of the case demands." 



336 PHILOSOPHICAL 

was no God watching him. And if a man is not sensible, 
and chooses the worse way? Well, so do men now. Motives 
and encouragements and driving forces exist on all hands; 
if they do not keep men up to their best, it is because 
of our failure properly to utilize them. Certain incentives 
might be lost, but plenty would remain. 

And how could the mere fact of God's existence guarantee 
us immortality or a desirable outcome of the universe? 
For if he is omnipotent, he still evidently does not remove 
what are to us evils; seeing that he has permitted so much 
that crosses our desires, how can we be sure that he will not 
cross our other desires? If he is not omnipotent, how can we 
be sure that he can secure immortality for us? or the ulti- 
mate victory of good? In short, theism alone does not imply 
the fulfillment of our desires, nor does atheism necessarily 
imply their non-fulfillment. So the theological beliefs which 
are defended on the ground that they alone imply the satis- 
faction of our needs often do not really guarantee any such 
satisfaction. 

(4) Finally, this argument, that if a state of things would 
be bad it cannot be true, is immoral; for it logically implies 
that if a fact is true it cannot be bad. If we are to refuse to 
believe in an atheistic world because it would be an evil, 
we may logically refuse to hold any of our acts evil, since 
they are actual facts. But "it is our duty to be humble in 
judging of reality, and imperious in judging of goodness. 
What is real is real, however we may condemn it. On the 
other hand, what we condemn — if we condemn rightly — 
is bad, even if it were the essence of all reality. The moral 
evil of the argument from consequences seems to me to be 
that it makes us imperious in the wrong place, where our 
humility is wrong and servile. When the reality of a thing 
is uncertain, the argument encourages us to suppose that 
our approval of a thing can determine its reality. And 



PRAGMATIC ARGUMENTS 337 

when this unhallowed link has once been established, ret- 
ribution overtakes us. For when the reality is independ- 
ently certain, we have to admit that the reality of a thing 
should determine our approval of that thing. I find it diffi- 
cult to imagine a more degraded position." l 

II. Because our hearts vouch for it ? The thoroughgoing 
pragmatist is not daunted, however, by such considerations. 
Our intellect, he admits, warns us from letting our hopes 
and desires bias our judgment. But why should we let our 
intellects tyrannize over us? Why should we be slaves to 
what Emerson calls "this arid, departmental, post-mortem 
science." We are, after all, more than intellect; and every 
part of our nature has its rights in court also. Kant as- 
serted for his "postulates of practical reason " a validity 
equal to that of the conclusions of "pure reason"; and since 
his time a host of philosophers and theologians have main- 
tained that the "heart" can vouch for truth as truly as 
the logical intellect. William James maintained this thesis 
brilliantly in his essay on "Reflex Action and Theism": 
"Materialism and agnosticism, even were they true, could 
never gain universal and popular acceptance; for they both, 
alike, give a solution of things which is irrational to the 
practical third of our nature, and in which we can never feel 
volitionally at home. . . . Our volitional nature must then, 
till the end of time, exert a constant pressure upon the other 
departments of the mind to induce them to function to 
theistic conclusions. No contrary formulas can be more 
than provisionally held. . . . May you avert the formation of 
a narrow scientific tradition, and burst the bonds of any 
synthesis which would pretend to leave out of account those 
forms of being, those relations of reality, to which at present 
our active and emotional tendencies are our only avenues of 
approach . . . Infra-theistic conceptions, materialisms and 
1 McTaggart, op. cit., pp. 65-66. 



338 PHILOSOPHICAL 

agnosticisms, are irrational because they are inadequate 
stimuli to man's practical nature." x 

In the first clause which I have italicized, James seems 
to be saying only that, as a matter of fact, people are biased 
by their desires and needs, that they always have been and 
always will be affected in their beliefs by considerations 
beyond those of logic and evidence. And there are many 
pragmatists who are content to repeat that we are so made 
that we must cleave to satisfactory beliefs, true or not, and 
reject unsatisfactory ones, even were they true. But the 
stouter pragmatists follow the cue given in the latter part 
of the quotation, and insist that the demands of the heart 
constitute a means of ascertaining what is true. Schiller, 
for example, seems to be on the former ground when he 
declares " the real structure of the actual reason to be es- 
sentially pragmatical, and permeated through and through 
with acts of faith, desires to know and wills to believe, to 
disbelieve, and to make believe." To this we might reply that 
our minds are indeed usually so biased, but that they are 
usually untrustworthy for that very reason; only when a 
man succeeds in eliminating these disturbing factors and 
training his mind to be a disinterested recorder of facts and 
reasoner thereupon, does he become a safe guide. 2 But 
on that same page Schiller writes, "Common sense has 
always shown a certain sympathy with all such protests 
against the pretensions of what is called the pure intellect 
to dictate to man's whole complex nature. It has always felt 
that there are * reasons of the heart of which the head knows 
nothing,' postulates of a faith that surpasses mere under- 

1 The Will to Believe, pp. 126-34. 

2 The pragmatist account of our mental processes is a singularly hope- 
less one. Professor Dewey's little book, How We Think, is typical. He does 
not consider how to think, how we ought to think to arrive at truth, but 
how stupid, prejudiced men do, and apparently always must, think. It is a 
substitution of observation for ideals, of psychology for logic. 



PRAGMATIC ARGUMENTS 339 

standing, and that these possess a higher rationality which 
a bigoted intellectualism has failed to comprehend." l 

To this argument we may reply : — 

(1) It is proper for the heart to desire objects that shall 
gratify its longings, and to seek for such; the motive for 
truth-seeking may be practical, and the direction in which 
one looks may be determined by what one hopes to find. 
When Schiller writes, "In reality our knowing is driven and 
guided at every step by our subjective interests and pref- 
erences, our desires, our needs and our ends," 2 we may 
agree. But these interests and preferences cannot answer 
the questions they suggest; for that we must look to the 
evidence. The "heart" constructs hypotheses; but it cannot 
tell whether they are true. "All human needs have the same 
function in the discovery of factual truth: they constitute 
merely demands and incentives. It is the intellect which 
passes upon the validity of each proposition affirming, in 
the interest of any need, objective existence." 3 

1 Humanism, p. 6. Cf. also G. Galloway, Philosophy of Religion, p. 
265: "The truth of a religion will be decided by the way in which its con- 
ception of the world satisfies the reason, its practical ideal the will, and 
its presentation of the religious relation the feelings and emotions. The 
more fully the different elements support and supplement one another, the 
greater is the assurance of religious truth." And p. 269: "Only the mutual 
support of the theoretical and practical reason can give a sufficient assur- 
ance of religious truth." So Stratton, pp. 360-65: "There are several great 
activities, or interests, each with a claim to examine and report upon the 
character of reality — ■ claiming, if not an exclusive power to reveal what 
is real, at least a power supplemental to that of its fellows. . . . Whatsoever 
is absolutely needed to make my experience morally intelligible I shall 
hold to, as having the solid reality of experience itself. . . . The intelligent 
thought of mankind will, in the end, regard as partial, and will attempt 
to correct, any view of the world that fails to satisfy this need." 

2 Humanism, p. 9. 

3 J. H. Leuba, in Journal of Philosophy, Psychology, and Scientific 
Methods, vol. 9, p. 409. Cf . Dickinson, Religion, a Criticism and a Forecast, 
p. 43: "The fact that [beliefs] afford a solution of the riddle of the world 
which to many minds is satisfactory does not in itself show anything 
about their truth or falsehood. It shows merely the tremendous bias 
under which criticism has to act." 



340 ' PHILOSOPHICAL 

(2) We may "trust our hearts" in matters of valuation: 
when they pronounce an object beautiful or good we may 
accept (after due criticism, of course) their verdict. For 
the beauty and goodness of objects consist precisely in their 
relation to our feelings; our knowledge of such beauty and 
goodness tells us really nothing of the nature of things save 
that they are so constituted as to affect us in certain ways. 
From a man's statement that a rose smells sweet to him, 
or that a certain conception of God is beautiful and inspiring 
to him, there is no appeal. His own feelings constitute the 
supreme court in such matters. But "the heart" has no 
right to make existential judgments, no means of ascertain- 
ing what facts do and what do not exist. Why does not some 
pragmatist adduce reasons for holding that "our active 
and emotional tendencies" are "avenues of approach" to 
reality? They are means of appraising such reality as they 
are confronted with by the senses or memory or imagination, 
but they do not add to our knowledge of what exists — 
except the knowledge of their own existence. "The intel- 
lect" and "the heart" are not two "faculties," each en- 
dowed with means of certifying to truth; there is but one 
means, observation, and inference therefrom, to be veri- 
fied by further observation. To rail against a "bigoted in- 
tellectualism " is but bluster unless the critic can show what 
means "the heart" has at its disposal for ascertaining what 
lies beyond the ken of our senses, our introspective obser- 
vation, and our logical inferences from these data. 

(3) The argument rests, no doubt, on an unexpressed 
assumption that God would not allow us to have instincts 
that would deceive us, longings doomed to non-fulfillment. 
But this is, of course, to reason in a circle — deducing the 
trustworthiness of our instincts from the existence of God, 
and then deducing the existence of God from the trust- 
worthiness of our instincts. We have no right to beg the 



PRAGMATIC ARGUMENTS 341 

whole question in that way. Moreover, as a matter of fact, 
many of man's deep-rooted, instinctive beliefs have been 
proved false. To one who is familiar with the history and 
psychology of belief, the long persistence of a belief for 
which the "heart" vouches is no argument for its truth. 
Superstitions have extraordinary vitality. Man's instinctive 
notions are usually erroneous; and correct ideas have to 
win their way slowly. Especially slow in disappearing are 
beliefs which appeal to the emotions and the imagination, 
or affect conduct. But, for that matter, millions of human 
beings have longed for the oblivion of Nirvana; the great 
majority, since the dawn of history, have believed in many 
gods rather than in one God. If ever any beliefs were 
vouched for by the "heart," these were. No, our needs, our 
"demands," our hopes, are causes of our beliefs, but they can- 
not be held to be means of knowing that our beliefs are true. 
Unpleasant as the fact is, we have no guaranty that these 
passionate personal convictions of ours are not delusions, 
these hopes doomed to disappointment — except as we can 
discover evidence; and that evidence must be scrutinized 
impartially and criticized in accordance with the laws of 
logic. 

(4) This is by no means to say that it is unlawful to retain 
these emotionally caused or instinctive beliefs, when we can- 
not find evidence to support them. The ethical problem in- 
volved, concerning the will or the right to believe when we 
cannot prove, will be discussed in chapter xxv. We may 
anticipate the outcome of that discussion by saying that 
such a will to believe is perfectly legitimate and highly de- 
sirable within certain bounds. But the admission that we 
may believe in spite of a lack of evidence must be sharply 
distinguished from the assertion that such a will, such an 
impulse of the heart, or push of the emotions, constitutes 
evidence that the belief is true. 



342 PHILOSOPHICAL 

III. Because it "works"? Another, and perhaps the 
commonest, form of the pragmatic argument, is that which 
insists that "what works best in practice is what in actual 
knowing we accept as true." : We have no means of as- 
certaining truth except by formulating hypotheses and 
seeing whether they "work"; and so, "When an idea leads 
to satisfactory results both in the individual life and the 
social medium, this dynamic efficiency constitutes a proper 
claim to truth." 2 If we demand any further evidence of 
religious truth, we are more exacting than in our attitude 
toward other matters. Why do we believe in atoms, in the 
heliocentric theory of the solar system, in the wave theory 
of light? We have no ocular evidence of these universally 
accepted truths; they were at first mere guesses, which have 
been tested and found to jibe with the fragmentary bits of 
our experience, and so satisfy our minds, which must for- 
mulate some generalization by which to unify and compre- 
hend its observations. Why indeed does a man believe in 
the existence of other minds? In the nature of the case, 
they can never enter into his own experience. Does he not 
rest his belief upon the fact that his venture of faith in 
their reality is verified by a thousand daily experiences which 
fall out as if these other minds were real? Since, then, in the 
nature of the case we cannot directly experience God's mind, 
what further proof can we require of his existence beyond 
the fact that the belief in him, when tried, is similarly veri- 

1 Schiller, Humanism, p. 7. 

2 G. Galloway, Philosophy of Religion, p. 369. Cf. also A. P. Fitch, 
The College Course and the Preparation for Life, pp. 120, 107: "When men 
do thus accept the Christian Gospel on faith, they are able to prove it is 
true in their own experience by the marvelous things which it does to 
them." "Then a new power flows into his being, and then he begins to 
know the heavenly Father for himself. Then belief in God is no longer 
taking him entirely on faith; for then we have begun the verification by 
experience, and we know of ourselves and within ourselves that we are 
dealing with realities." 



PRAGMATIC ARGUMENTS 343 

fied? "On pragmatistic principles, if the hypothesis of God 
works satisfactorily, in the widest sense, it is true. Now, 
whatever its residual difficulties may be, experience shows 
that it certainly does work." 1 

(1) Superficially, this contention sounds plausible; and it 
is, of all contemporary arguments, perhaps the most widely 
welcomed. But its cogency rests upon a rather obvious 
confusion — an ambiguity, namely, in the word "work." 
The heliocentric theory "works" in the sense that it fits 
all observed facts. It is like an attempted reconstruction 
of a ruined temple; if the original plan has been rightly 
grasped, a place will be found for each fragment. Scientific 
theories have this sort of "verification in experience" — • 
they lead us to expect, on a given occasion, a given phenom- 
enon; if we find what we were led to expect, the theory is 
in so far verified. Whatever is observed to happen is in 
harmony with the theory, and no consequences logically 
deduced from the theory are found not to happen. But 
the theological beliefs supported by this argument do not 
"work" in that sense. They "work" in the sense that they 
console and inspire men — ■ which is a very different matter. 
So, when Schiller writes, "Religious postulates need con- 
firmation as much as those of science. The true claim of 
religious experience is that they receive it* after their kind; 
that, e.g., prayer * works,' that it really uplifts and consoles," 2 
we may reply that the uplifting and consoling power of 
prayer proves only — that prayer uplifts and consoles; a 
fact which was never in question. In such a case it is not 
the truth of the belief but the practical efficacy of the belief 
which is verified. If a man prays, believing that God hears 
him, his belief comforts him and his prayer inspires him, 
whether his belief is true or an illusion. 3 

1 James, Pragmatism, p. 99. 2 Riddles of the Sphinx, p. 468. 

3 Cf. Dickinson, op. cit., p. 44: "The fact that a belief works is no proof 



344 PHILOSOPHICAL 

Granting, then, that the traditional Christian conception 
of God and a future life has been an enormous stimulus to 
morality, and has "worked well" in making men good and 
happy, what does that fact prove? Simply that it has been 
a fortunate thing for men that at a certain stage in their 
civilization they could believe such a world-conception. 
The fact that the belief has been inspiring is not in the slight- 
est degree evidence that it is true. We have many instances 
of illusions and dreams that have helped men to be good 
and happy, that nevertheless turned out to be untrue. 1 
If a lover believes in his sweetheart's fidelity, and is thereby 
quickened to do and be his best, those' valuable results do 
in no wise prove that she is faithful, as many a lover has 
learned. Believing that the universe is friendly to us warms 
and kindles us; but it is the belief that has that beneficent 
effect, not the fact that the universe really is (if it is) 
friendly. 2 

of its validity, but only of its efficacy. Its validity can only be tested by 
the ordinary processes of criticism. And this is a fact which it will, I think, 
be increasingly impossible for the most religious and the most candid to 
deny. There is no general presumption that what is helpful and good is 
also true." 

And Perry, op. tit., p. 265: "A highly agreeable or inspiring idea, or a 
belief that disposes the mind to peace and contentment, may be of all ideas 
the least fitted to prepare the mind for what is to befall it. In other words, 
such emotional value is irrelevant to truth value, in the strict sense." 

1 How can such a statement as this be supported? — -"It is surely a 
mistake to suppose that there are in the long run of history any beneficial 
illusions." "It is the truth in any idea that makes it useful." (D. S. Miller, 
professor of Apologetics in General Theological Seminary, in an address 
to the clergy of the diocese of Pennsylvania, December, 1914.) If the 
universe is indifferent to us, would it not be a beneficent illusion if men 
could always go on believing it to be at heart friendly? Precisely the good 
consequences which have followed from that belief would continue to fol~ 
low from it, so long as men held it — even if, all the time, it has been an 
untrue belief. 

2 This simple discrimination takes the wind out of any number of con- 
temporary arguments. For example, this of Carl Hilty, in his widely read 
little book on Happiness: "The mark by which the near presence of God's 



PRAGMATIC ARGUMENTS 345 

(2) But leaving this popular and unscientific meaning of 
the term "works," let us grant that a theological belief 
works in the same sense in which the atomic theory works 
— namely, that it is a theory which actually does explain 
observed facts. We must then admit that our belief has only 
the status of a hypothesis, and that its probability is only 
that of the degree in which the observed facts accord with 
it. Scientific theories are frankly hypotheses, to be held 
provisionally and doubted or discarded as soon as they cease 
to explain phenomena. Moreover, if alternative hypotheses 
are suggested, each of which seems to explain some of the 
facts but to be belied by other facts, they are both regarded 
as only possibilities. A hypothesis is not proved true simply 
because it is a conceivable way of explaining certain facts. 
One must ask the further questions, Are there any facts 
that seem to disagree with it? and, Is there any other hypoth- 
esis which fits observed facts equally well? There are all 
degrees of probability for theories. Many a one long gen- 
erally accepted, because it fitted known facts, has had to be 
discarded when new facts were learned; and one little ugly 
fact that refuses to harmonize with a theory is enough, if 
it is indisputable, to disprove it. 

What, then, is the status, scientifically considered, of the 

spirit is made irrefutably clear to those who have ever had the experience 
is the utterly incomparable feeling of happiness which is connected with 
the nearness, and which is therefore not only a possible and altogether 
proper feeling for us to have here below, but is the best and most indispen- 
sable proof of God's reality. No other proof is equally convincing, and 
therefore happiness is the point from which every efficacious new theology 
should start." 

But how can the happiness which a belief gives be considered a proof of 
its truth? A comforting belief gives happiness in proportion to its sup- > 
posed certainty, not in proportion to its actual truth. Just the fact of believ- 
ing in the near presence of God, and being inspired by that belief to a 
deeper consecration and appreciation of life is the evident cause of the 
happiness. The further question, whether that sweet belief is a true belief or 
an illusion, must look elsewhere for its answer. 



346 PHILOSOPHICAL 

traditional theological beliefs? It must be confessed that 
it is very precarious. The average theologian needs training 
in scientific method. He finds facts that fit into his scheme, 
and at once considers it verified. But how about those un- 
pleasant facts which refuse to fit into it? And has he can- 
didly considered the various rival hypotheses which are in 
the field, and ascertained that his belief explains more facts 
than any other? Is he willing to admit that his cherished 
beliefs are but hypotheses, which stand, not by any means 
on a par with the theories of astronomy — from which the 
most intricate deductions can be made, and verified to a 
hair's breadth by subsequent happenings — but on a par 
with the belief, say, in the ether, or the electronic theory of 
matter? 

The belief in the existence of other human minds is, 
strictly speaking, a mere hypothesis. But it is a hypothesis 
resting upon innumerable facts and contradicted by none. 
We see that our own movements, gestures, spoken words, 
facial expression, correspond to our mental states; then we 
see similar movements and hear similar words coming from 
bodies like our own. Those bodies have had the same gene- 
sis that ours have had; ours came indeed from one of them, 
and others have perhaps come from ours. The inference is 
irresistible that "behind" these other bodies live minds like 
our own. We try to deduce the workings of those minds, 
and predict from our past observations what acts those other 
beings will perform. Our predictions in general come true; 
where they do not, it is usually possible for us to see the 
flaw in our reasoning. There is no escape from the conviction 
that our experienced mind-body relation is paralleled in all 
human beings. . . . But is it so with the hypothesis of a 
divine mind? It is conceivable that we do see, in the stellar 
universe, a vast body "behind" which exists a vast mind, 
or that a divine mind exists without a visible body. It is 

c 



PRAGMATIC ARGUMENTS 347 

conceivable that some of the saints and prophets have been 
right in thinking they heard an audible voice that was God's. 
A great number of arguments have been offered, the more 
important of which we have examined, which aim to deduce 
from observed facts the existence of such a Mind behind 
Nature. 1 But there is obviously no such evidence as for the 
existence of our fellow human minds. And there are facts — • 
notably the existence of so much evil in the world — which 
do not seem to fit the hypothesis at all. Consequently, such 
beliefs as that in the personality or the creative function of 
God cannot be said to be at present, scientifically consid- 
ered, more than highly interesting, but far from proved, 
working hypotheses. 

(3) If, however, the argument is valid at all, it proves 
too much. There have been a great many, mutually con- 
tradictory, faiths that have "worked" successfully. Does 
that prove them all true? No faith ever worked more 
startlingly than Christian Science; does that prove its doc- 
trine true? Schiller says to this, "If all religions work, all 
are true; and what is false is the rigidity of an idea which 
cannot tolerate such plural truth." 2 But is it necessary to 
come to such a conclusion? May it not be that there is 
"some truth in" all religions, and that none is true Ueber- 
haupt ? Religions are complex; it may be only certain ele- 

1 Space limitations have made necessary the exclusion of the more 
technically metaphysical arguments. I especially regret the omission of 
the pantheistic and transcendental arguments. Good examples of the 
former may be found in Fechner's writings, and in F. Paulsen's Introduc- 
tion to Philosophy; of the latter, in Josiah Royce's writings, and (briefly) 
in Galloway's Philosophy of Religion, chap, xi; or in Foundations (several 
authors, The Macmillan Co.), chap. ix. 

Criticisms of arguments of this stripe may be found in Perry's Present 
Philosophical Tendencies, pt. in; W. James, A Pluralistic Universe, lects. u 
and v; P. C. S. Schiller, Studies in Humanism, chap, xn; W. H. Mallock, Re- 
ligion as a Credible Doctrine, chap, x; A. Seth, Hegelianism and Personality. 

2 Riddles of the Sphinx, p. 469. 



348 PHILOSOPHICAL 

ments in the religion that were valuable; and those ele- 
ments may not be contradictory of the valuable elements 
V in the other faiths. Even, then, if it is not true, as argued 
above, that religions "work" successfully independently 
of their truth or falsehood, it would still be a difficult matter 
to show which element of a religious system was proved 
true by its success, in view of the marked success of so many 
irreconcilable systems. 

(4) But all of this still does not touch the genuine prag- 
matist. For when one studies the pragmatic philosophy 
itself one finds that what it is, is precisely a new theory of 
the nature of truth. Truth, to the radical pragmatist, is suc- 
cessful working; that is all he means by truth, all, he asserts, 
that the term "truth" can mean. 1 Pragmatism rejects 
belief in everything beyond experience; it is really the most 
thorough skepticism. Schiller writes scornfully of "the tra- 
ditional dogma of an absolute truth and ultimate reality 
existing for themselves apart from human agency." 2 For 
him "the truest religion is that which issues in and fosters 
the best life" 3 — • simply because that is what he calls the 
"truest" religion. So James tells us that "the true is the 
name of whatever proves itself to be good in the way of be- 

1 Cf. James, The Meaning of Truth, and Pragmatism; and F. C. S. 
Schiller's, John Dewey's, A. W. Moore's writings, in a number of places. 
Professor D. C. Macintosh (in his Problem of Knowledge, p. 410), calls 
this hyper-pragmatism. The doctrine which I have just been opposing, 
that whatever " works " practically is thereby proved to be true (in con- 
trast with this still more radical doctrine that the practical working is 
all we mean by its truth), he calls pseudo-pragmatism. Thus he reserves 
the name pragmatism itself for the mild doctrine that the test of truth is 
ultimately practical, residing in the consequences which follow from a 
hypothesis. I am quite willing to adopt this nomenclature, and to call 
the doctrines I attack distortions or excesses of pragmatism. But we 
must confess that these distortions of the true pragmatism have been 
voiced by the leaders of the movement, and constitute in the popular 
mind its very essence — and its attractiveness. 

2 Humanism, p. 9. 3 Studies in Humanism, p. 369. 



PRAGMATIC ARGUMENTS 349 

lief.*' 1 "If theological ideas prove to have a value for con- 
crete life, they will be true, for pragmatism, in the sense of 
being good for so much.'" 2 Of the doctrine of the Absolute, 
which he does his best to demolish, he tells us that, prag- 
matically considered, it is, after all, true; for it, in its way, 
"works," and that "working" constitutes its truth. But 
what then does the doctrine of the absolute mean, when 
pragmatically interpreted? It means simply "that we have 
a right ever and anon to take a moral holiday, to let the 
world wag in its own way. ... If the absolute means this, 
and means no more than this, who can possibly deny the 
truth of it? To deny it would be to insist that men should 
never relax, and that holidays are never in order." 3 So 
with the belief in a Designer God. Since reality consists only 
of experience, "a vague confidence in the future is the sole 
pragmatic meaning at present discernible in the terms 
design and designer." 4 

Well and good, then. "Since the truth of an idea means 
merely the fact that the idea works, that fact is all you mean 
when you say the idea is true." 5 If you say that the belief 
in God is true, you mean only that the belief works well 
in human life. "Other than this practical significance, the 
words God, free-will, design, etc., have none." 6 All of 
which limitation of meaning is legitimate enough if one on 
principle refuses to admit the possibility of existences out- 
side this present flux of " pure experience." But if one is 
interested in the possibility of a God who is a conscious Being, 
now living and working outside of our experience; if one 
is interested in finding out, not whether such a belief works 
well, but whether it is, in the usual sense of the word, true, 
a bona fide pragmatism has no comfort to offer. 

1 Pragmatism, p. 76. 2 Ibid., p. 73. My italics. 

3 Ibid., pp. 74-75. 4 Ibid., p. 115. 

5 Pratt, op. cit, p. 206. 6 James, op. cit., p. 121. 



350 PHILOSOPHICAL 

Pragmatic arguments: Kant, Critique of Practical Reason, bk. 
II, chap. II. W. James, Pragmatism; "Reflex Action and Theism" 
(in The Will to Believe). W. H. Mallock, Religion as a Credible 
Doctrine, chap. xn. E. H. Rowland, Right to Believe, chap. n. 
E. Boutroux, Science and Religion in Contemporary Philosophy, 
pt. ii, chaps, iii-iv. E. W. Lyman, Theology and Human Problems 
chap. iv. G. R. Montgomery, The Unexplored Self. F. C. S. 
Schiller, Riddles of the Sphinx: Appendix in; Humanism, I, xvin. 
G. M. Stratton, Psychology of the Religious Life, chap. xxv. 

Criticisms: J. M. E. McTaggart, Some Dogmas of Religion, 
chaps, ii, viii. R. B. Perry, Present Philosophical Tendencies, pt. 
iv. B. Russell, Philosophical Essays, iv-v. J. B. Pratt, What is 
Pragmatism? Lectures v-vi. W. Riley, American Thought, chap. 
ix. Journal of Philosophy, Psychology, and Scientific Methods, vol. 
5, p. 90; vol. 9, p. 406. 



CHAPTER XXII 

THE COUNTER-ATTACK UPON SCIENCE 

One of the most instinctive methods of self-defense is to 
say, "You're another!" And in recent years many a hard- 
pressed theologian, obliged to admit the flaws in his apolo- 
getic, has turned upon science with a Tu quoque. If theology 
has been built upon the sand, are the doctrines of natural 
science any better based? The defenders of tradition, so 
long fighting a losing battle, have turned upon their oppo- 
nents with what would be called in military parlance an 
offensive-defensive; they have carried the war into Africa. 
A thoroughgoing attempt has been made to discredit human 
knowledge in general, in order in the universal shipwreck to 
assert that one belief is no freer from fallacy than another, 
and that therefore we need not hesitate to retain our theo- 
logical beliefs, however riddled by objections they may be. 
The most skillful and influential, probably, of these counter- 
attacks upon science is Mr. Balfour's sensational book, The 
Foundations of Belief. But the point of view therein main- 
tained has found expression in many contemporary essays. 
For example, in a widely read little book by an American 
college teacher, the opening argument is summed up in the 
words, "We are now apparently in the identical position 
from which we started. Nothing is proved, and we are pre- 
pared as before to believe one hypothesis as easily as the 
other." 1 If theological beliefs, when severely scrutinized, 
are found to be less certain than we had thought, no body of 
supposed truth is really in any better case; and to point out 
1 Rowland, op. cit., p. 30. 



352 PHILOSOPHICAL 

this fact gives to many a theologian a particular and holy 
glee. 1 We must therefore consider the leading types of this 
radical skepticism. 

Is reason untrustworthy because the product of blind 
forces? 

Mr. Balfour writes as follows: 2 "On the naturalistic 
hypothesis, the whole premises of knowledge are clearly due 
to the blind operation of material causes, and in the last 
resort to these alone. . . . Reason itself is the result, like 
nerves or muscles, of physical antecedents. . . . [her] prem- 
ises are settled for her by purely irrational forces, which she 
is powerless to control, or even to comprehend. . . . We are 
to suppose that powers which were evolved in primitive 
man and his animal progenitors in order that they might 
kill with success and marry in security, are on that account 
fitted to explain the secrets of the universe. We are to sup- 
pose that the fundamental beliefs on which these powers 
are to be exercised reflect with sufficient precision remote 
aspects of reality, though they were produced in the main by 
physiological processes which date from a stage of develop- 
ment when the only curiosities which had to be satisfied were 
those of fear and those of hunger. To say that instruments 
of research constructed solely for uses like these cannot be 
expected to supply us with a metaphysic or a theology, is to 
say far too little. They cannot be expected to give us any 
general views even of the phenomenal world, or to do more 
than guide us in comparative safety from the satisfaction 
of one useful appetite to the satisfaction of another." In 
short, our reasoning faculty, being the product of blind 

1 Cf. Perry, op. cit., p. 85: "It is still generally assumed that the suc- 
cess of religion is conditioned by the failure of science. The major part of 
contemporary religious philosophy is 'devoted to a disproof of science." 

2 The Foundations of Belief, pp. 304-09. 



THE COUNTER-ATTACK UPON SCIENCE 353 

forces, is not of guaranteed trustworthiness, and is far 
likelier to lead us astray than to conduct us safely to a knowl- 
edge of the truth. 

(1) This argument, it may be noted in passing, can be 
answered in its own terms. For if Mr. Balfour's supposition 
is correct, and reason is untrustworthy, then his own reason- 
ing is worthless, and his attack upon science, based upon it, 
has no cogency. While if Mr. Balfour's real belief is true, 
and reason is not the product of blind forces, but a God- 
given faculty, the argument has no force at all. As a recent 
writer puts it, "There must be some fallacy in any process 
of reasoning which ends by discrediting reason; for if reason 
is discredited, the reasoning which is supposed to prove it 
to be so is itself discredited in advance." l 

(2) It is more profitable, however, to point out that al- 
though our reasoning powers have been evolved through a 
blind and thoroughly practical struggle for existence, and 
therefore could not be assumed a priori to be trustworthy; 
and though, as a matter of fact, no man can wholly trust his 
own particular reasoning powers; yet, by a long observation 
of the results of human reasoning, a method of using these 
powers has been discovered which, when accurately carried 
out, is shown by repeated experience actually to lead to 
trustworthy conclusions. This method is taught in the 
textbooks of logic. Whether or not it has been faithfully 
followed in any concrete piece of reasoning is to be decided 
only by the careful scrutiny of critics; but if it has been 
faithfully followed, our unbroken experience assures us that 
we can trust its results. However, then, we came into pos- 
session of the faculty of logical reason, our confidence in it 
depends not upon the causes that produced it but upon 
the observed accuracy of its working in all cases where we can 
test it by comparing its conclusions with actual facts. If, 

1 B. S. Streeter, Restatement and Reunion, p. 47. 



354 PHILOSOPHICAL 

for example, by the use of a complicated piece of reasoning 
we can predict an eclipse of the moon at 9.35 p.m. on De- 
cember 1, ten years ahead; and if, when the time comes, that 
eclipse takes place at the moment predicted, no amount 
of dust-throwing at the faculty of reason will serve to dis- 
credit it in our eyes. Since, then, the method of logical rea- 
soning has been verified by such subsequent observations in 
innumerable cases, and since wherever a concrete piece of 
reasoning has been belied by such observations it has been 
possible to discover some inadvertent disloyalty to the 
method, we have every reason for trusting the method 
in those cases where we are unable to test its results by 
observation. 

Is science based upon unproved and self-contradictory 
postulates? 

Trustworthy as the method of logic may be, however, the 
truth of any conclusion will be contingent upon the truth 
of the premises from which its proof starts; if these are 
merely assumed, the whole structure of supposed knowledge 
that rests upon them is, likewise, merely assumed; and if, 
in addition, those premises are found, upon examination, 
to be actually self-contradictory, the supposed body of 
knowledge has no validity at all. That such is the case with 
the traditional theological dogmas, Mr. Balfour admits; but 
he declares that it is also the case with our whole body of 
science. "All branches of knowledge would appear to stand 
very much upon an equality. In all of them conclusions 
seem more stable than premises, the superstructure more 
stable than the foundation." "One great metaphysician 
has described the system of another as ' shot out of a pistol,' 
meaning thereby that it was presented for acceptance 
without introductory proof. . . . The circumstance that all 
men are practically agreed to accept [ ' positive knowledge '] 



THE COUNTER-ATTACK UPON SCIENCE 355 

without demur, has blinded them to the fact that it, too, 
has been 'shot out of a pistol."' * 

Moreover, these underlying postulates of science can 
be shown to be full of inconceivabilities. "Space, time, 
matter, motion, force, and so forth, are each in turn shown 
to involve contradictions which it is beyond our power to 
solve, and obscurities which it is beyond our power to pene- 
trate." 2 This supposed demonstration of the existence of 
hopeless dialectical difficulties in ultimate scientific ideas 
goes back to Kant's famous " Antinomies," Sir William 
Hamilton's paradoxes, and Spencer's ponderous argument 
at the threshold of his huge philosophical system. The net 
result, for these thinkers and their followers, is that we 
cannot conceive of space and time as finite or as infinite; 
we cannot conceive of force as material or immaterial; we 
cannot conceive how motion takes place, how one body acts 
upon another; in short, we can form no clear ideas of any of 
these ultimate realities, Science, then, resting as it does 
upon these concepts, is vitiated throughout by their ob- 
scurity. "As soon as the ' unthinkableness ' of 'ultimate' 
scientific ideas is speculatively recognized, the fact must 
react upon our speculative attitudes towards 'proximate' 
scientific ideas. That which in the order of reason is de- 
pendent cannot be unaffected by the weaknesses and the 
obscurities of that on which it depends. If the one is unin- 
telligible, the other can hardly be rationally established." 3 

1 The Foundations of Belief, pp. 291, 293-94. 2 Ibid., p. 292. 

3 Ibid., pp. 291, 93-94, 294-95. So Rowland, op. cit., p. 27: "All thought 
must proceed on certain unproved and inconceivable assumptions." Mal- 
lock, op. cit., p. 281: "If we allowed ourselves to believe in the existence 
of those things only which do not, when our intellect analyses them, con- 
front us at last with contradictions, the plain truth is that we must con- 
tent ourselves with believing in nothing." Schiller, Riddles of the Sphinx, 
p. 466: "No doubt it is true that science also ultimately rests on acts 
of faith"; and Humanism, p. 349: "The premise has to be assumed or 
conceded in every demonstration. The utmost we can do is to rest our 



356 PHILOSOPHICAL 

(1) But these supposed paradoxes concerning time, space, 
motion, and the other high abstractions of science, have 
been one by one patiently unraveled. 1 Messrs. Kant, 
Spencer, et al., made themselves a lot of unnecessary and 
gratuitous trouble. These 'ultimate' ideas are not incon- 
ceivable. Some of them are, indeed, unpicturable ; we can- 
not conceive infinite space, e.g., pictorially in full. But we 
can picture a part, and have the feeling that there is no bound- 
ary; we can so set our minds that it will reject the thought 
of a limit as incompatible with its conception. And this is 
all that is necessary. Conceptions do not need to be visu- 
alized at all, much less to be visualized in full; what is im- 
portant is the disposition of the mind. Introspection will 
show that most of our abstract conceptions consist, psy- 
chologically considered, of unnameable mental stuff, ten- 
sions and releases, and vague associations. In this way our 
"ultimate scientific ideas" can be conceived as adequately 
as is necessary to serve their purpose. 

Moreover, the fact that a suggested possibility was "in- 
conceivable" would be no proof that the facts were not so. 
If our minds are incapable of conceiving certain aspects 
of the universe, we cannot set up our mental limitations as 
limiting outer existence. Self-contradiction in a conception 
is, indeed, enough to discredit it; for self-contradiction con- 
sists in unsaying what we are in the same breath saying, 
and its net result is a mutual cancellation of assertions 
that leaves nothing asserted. But except for this test, any 

demostration on an assumption so fundamental that none will dare to 
question it; and this we here seem to have accomplished. For what could 
be more fundamental than the assumption on which the ethical argument 
rests — that the elements of our experience admit of being harmonized, that 
the world is truly a cosmos? " [i.e., as Schiller means, a moral order, an 
order arranged to satisfy our needs.] 

1 See, e.g., Mill's Examination of Sir William Hamilton s Philosophy, 
chap. vi. W. James, Some Problems of Philosophy, chaps, x-xi. / 



[THE COUNTER-ATTACK UPON SCIENCE 357 

conception is valid as a conception; whether it is true or not 
can only be judged by observation of the facts. Time and 
space may be either finite or infinite, for all we know; the 
fact that men have difficulty in imagining either alternative 
reflects only upon the weakness of their imaginations. 

(2) But however confused our ideas of time, space, and 
motion are, we at least have good reason to know that they 
correspond to some reality. To deny their existence because 
we cannot give an intelligible account of them would be 
on a par with denying my own existence because I do not 
understand the nature of consciousness. To doubt the ex- 
istence of my life after death, on the other hand, or of a 
personal God now, is far less absurd; not because we have 
difficulty in conceiving those possibilities, but because we 
lack evidence of their existence at all. At least, we are not 
flatly confronted with their existence, as we are with the 
existence of time, space, and motion, or with our own con- 
scious existence. So to assume that because all ultimate 
ideas are vague and dubious, the realities to which they 
correspond are equally dubious, and that therefore we may 
as well believe in any ultimate realities that it satisfies our 
souls to believe in, is to blur one of our most obvious and 
necessary distinctions, that between an inadequate idea 
of an indubitable fact and an inadequate idea of a doubtful 
fact. 

(3) And after all, even if our notions of time, space, matter, 
ether, etc., are to be discredited, the great body of science 
is not discredited thereby. For these "ultimate" ideas are 
wrongly conceived as "postulates" upon which science 
"rests." They are rather its last and least certain generali- 
zations. Science rests upon millions of concrete observa- 
tions; its laws are shorthand summaries of those observations, 
a systematized account of experience. No inadequacy in 
our conception of space or time can vitiate the conclusions 



/ 



358 PHILOSOPHICAL 

of astronomy; eclipses of the moon do take place in accord- 
ance with predictions, the planets do appear at their ap- 
pointed times. Thus the great body of truth that con- 
stitutes a science is not contingent upon those highest 
abstractions or remote deductions which are based upon it. 1 
So is it with the facts of religious experience. No doubt 
of the existence of a personal God can impugn the actual facts 
of conversion, or of the purity and peace to which the re- 
ligious soul attains. The great structure of the religious life 
will not topple and go to pieces because "ultimate religious 
ideas" are dubious. Rather, it is the province of theology 
to take these concrete and indubitable facts as its founda- 
tion-stones; and only as the structure nears completion can 
it hope for a clear vision of those highest truths which rest, 
like the vaulted dome of a cathedral, upon the great masses 
of masonry patiently accumulated beneath. 

Is science based upon purely subjective data? 

A more radical criticism of science is that since it uses for 
its data our sensations, which are subjective and personal 
facts, its conclusions cannot be trusted as objectively true. 
Mr. Balfour writes: "We need only to consider carefully our 
perceptions regarded as psychological results, in order to 
see that, regarded as sources of information, they are not 
merely occasionally inaccurate, but habitually menda- 

1 Cf. Spencer, First Principles, chap, i, sec. 5: "Science is simply a higher 
development of common knowledge; if science is repudiated, all knowledge 
must be repudiated along with it. The extremest bigot will not suspect any 
harm in the observation that the sun rises earlier and sets later in the sum- 
mer than in the winter. Well, astronomy is an organized body of similar 
observations, made with greater nicety, extended to a larger number of 
objects. And thus it is with all the sciences. They severally germinate out 
of the experiences of daily life; insensibly as they grow they draw in re- 
moter, more numerous, and more complex experiences; and among these, 
they ascertain laws of dependence like those which make up our knowl- 
edge of the most familiar objects." (Abridged.) 



THE COUNTER-ATTACK UPON SCIENCE 359 

cious. . . . Nine-tenths of our immediate experiences of 
objects are visual; and all visual experiences, without ex- 
ception, are, according to science, erroneous. As everybody 
knows, colour is not a property of the thing seen; it is 
a sensation produced in us by that thing. ... In what 
entanglements of contradiction do we not find ourselves 
involved by the attempt to rest science upon observations 
which science itself declares to be erroneous? . . . Can we by 
any possible treatment of sensations and feelings legiti- 
mately squeeze out of them trustworthy knowledge of the 
permanent and independent material universe of which, 
according to science, sensations and feelings are but tran- 
sient and evanescent effects?" x 

To take a familiar concrete case, one man sees a rose as a 
red object, another, whom we call "color-blind," sees it as a 
gray object; if a third man had optical organs somewhat dif- 
ferently made, he might see it blue or yellow or brown. Since, 
then, the color we see depends upon the nature of our eyes, 
how can we possibly tell what the rose is like in itself? In- 
deed, were the nerves running from our eyes to the visual 
centers in our brain to be cut and spliced with the nerves 
running from our ears to the auditory tracts, we should 
doubtless hear everything we now see and see when we now 
hear. In short, the data upon which we base our supposed 
knowledge of an outer world are all dependent, for their pe- 
culiar quality, upon the structure of our brains and sense- 
organs; and the knowledge we draw from them is knowledge 
rather of our own subjective experiences than of the nature 
of objective reality. Is not science then, after all, as sub- 
jective as theology? 

(1) But knowledge of our own experiences is knowledge 
of the most valuable sort; and to enable us to predict what 
sensations we shall have under given circumstances is pre- 
1 The Foundations of Belief, pp. 111-19. 



360 PHILOSOPHICAL 

cisely the most important function of science. Except for 
slight individual variations, which can be allowed for, our 
sense-organs and brains are constructed alike; and the con- 
clusions of one investigator hold good for all other men. If 
natural science is thought of merely as a detailed description 
of what we should see and hear and feel under all eventuali- 
ties, it is not thereby proved "subjective" in any disparag- 
ing sense; it is still strictly determined by the facts as they 
are forced upon us, and not affected by our bias or desire. 
It is not fair to call our observations "mendacious," or 
"erroneous," because they are our observations, bits of our 
conscious experience, unless they mislead us. But — except 
for illusions and malobservations, which are checked by 
the cooperation of many observers — these experiences of 
ours do happen in accordance with regular and ascertain- 
able laws of cause and effect; and the knowledge of those 
laws, which are for the most part independent of our volition, 
constitutes a highly trustworthy mass of scientific truth. 

(2) Moreover, the fact that these sensations are, as it were, 
thrust upon us, intruding into our conscious life quite 
without relevance to our preceding mental states, suggests 
strongly that they are due to outer causes and not to 
a merely inward mental evolution. The strongest willing 
cannot exorcise these sensations; we are at their mercy. A 
great many other peculiarities of these sensation-experiences, 
of which space does not here permit even a summary, com- 
pel us to believe that they are the effects in us of an outer 
world of realities surrounding us. Subjective idealism, 
which would limit reality to the conscious experience of our 
several minds, and define science as merely an account of 
"permanent possibilities of sensation," is not only repug- 
nant to our instinctive beliefs, but philosophically inde- 
fensible. Certainly the sight of a man killed by a bullet, or 
writhing from the effects of poison taken, should be enough 



THE COUNTER-ATTACK UPON SCIENCE 361 

to convince any one that we are in the grip of a reality bigger 
than our own little streams of experience, a reality reflected, 
if not photographically pictured, by our sensations. And 
whatever the degree in which our sensations give us the 
qualitative nature of this outer world, they at least give us 
a good working knowledge of it. For they enable us to steer 
our way safely through its dangers and to avail ourselves of 
its resources. So we may have great confidence that science 
gives us not only truth concerning our own possible ex- 
periences, but in some sense truth concerning the objec- 
tive world. 1 

Is science restricted in its scope? 

If, then, we may accept scientific knowledge as valid, 
can we say with certain theologians that it is valid only 
within a restricted field or only of a certain aspect of reality 
— reserving a field for the exclusive domain of theology? It 
has long been the habit of religious philosophers to welcome 
the scientific method as applied to all facts except those of 
religion, but to put up a "No trespassing" sign about that 
sacred enclosure, using therein the time-honored and more 
satisfying methods of authority or a priori reasoning. But, 
as we saw in chapter xvi, this reservation is not warranted. 
If the scientific method gives such good results in the other 
fields, why not apply it to this field also? Why be content in 
these most important of all matters with a looser and less 
trustworthy method? "The field of science is unlimited; its 
material is endless, every group of natural phenomena, every 
phase of social life, every stage of past or present develop- 
ment is material for science. . . . The field of science is 

1 The present writer has dwelt at length upon this matter in the dis- 
sertation referred to, and in the following papers: Journal of Philosophy, 
Psychology, and Scientific Methods, vol. 8, p. 365; vol. 9, p, 149. Mind 
(N.S.), vol. 24, p. 29. 



362 PHILOSOPHICAL 

co-extensive with the whole life, physical and mental, of 
the universe. . . . To say that there are certain fields from 
which science is excluded, wherein its methods have no 
application, is merely to say that the rules of methodical 
observation and the laws of logical thought do not apply to 
the facts, if any, which lie within such fields. If there are 
facts, and sequences to be observed among those facts, then 
we have all the requisites of scientific classification and 
knowledge. If there are no facts, or no sequence to be ob- 
served among them, then the possibility of all knowledge 
disappears. . . . There is no short-cut to truth, no way to 
gain a knowledge of the universe except through the gate- 
way of scientific method. The hard and stony path of classi- 
fying facts and reasoning upon them is the only way to 
ascertain truth." 1 

It is true that we commonly limit the name "science" to 
that body of truth which is a mere description and piecing 
out of the data of our experience. The question how far 
those truths hold good of a world beyond experience, and 
what the nature of that world is, in itself — including all 
other minds than our own — we leave to metaphysics. In 
so far, then, as theology concerns itself with an inquiry into 
the existence and nature of a personal God or gods, it may 
properly consider its task as lying beyond the frontiers 
of science. But the same spirit and method that have made 
science successful must be employed here also. Although 
no further observations can be made in these realms beyond 
our experience, whatever truth is to be ascertained must be 
based upon the facts offered by the various sciences; meta- 
physical and theological hypotheses can be granted no spe- 
cial indulgence, but must stand or fall according to the com- 
pleteness and the exclusiveness with which they explain 
these verified facts. 

1 Pearson, op. cit., chap. 1. 



THE COUNTER-ATTACK UPON SCIENCE 363 

A subtler way of limiting the scope of science is to permit 
it to invade all fields but to insist that it can everywhere 
only describe, and never explain. Paulsen writes, for ex- 
ample, "Let us not be deceived! Natural science will never 
again be decoyed from its path, which seeks a purely phys- 
ical explanation of all natural phenomena. There may be 
a thousand things which it cannot explain now, but the 
fundamental axiom that these too have their natural causes 
and therefore a natural-scientific explanation, will never 
again be abandoned by science. . . . But would the com- 
pletion of the natural-scientific explanation exhaust our 
theoretical interest in reality? I think not. For now a 
new question arises. What does it all mean? . . . Every- 
thing must occur and be explained physically; and 
everything must be considered and interpreted metaphys- 
ically." 1 

This word "meaning," as used by Paulsen and others, 
is ambiguous. If it means "plan," "purpose," "intention" 
— whether of God or man or any other conscious being — it 
lies within the realm of fact, and is to be ascertained by natu- 
ral science, or philosophy, by the same method by which any 
facts are ascertained, or inferred. If it means "value," it 
lies within the domain of moral philosophy, or ethics — 
wherein a similar rigorously scientific method must also be 
used. Theology must deal, no doubt, with both facts and 
their values — or "meanings" — for human life; but in 
neither aspect of its inquiry is it absolved from the necessity 
of building its conclusions upon the concrete data of obser- 
vation. So, whether or not we shall agree to restrict the 
scope of "science" is merely a matter of convenience of 
nomenclature; whether metaphysics and theology are to be 
regarded as a branch of science or as separate disciplines, 
they must, if they are really to add to our knowledge, come 
1 F. Paulsen, Introduction to Philosophy, pp. 161-62. 



364 PHILOSOPHICAL 

under the control of the scientific method. There is no other 
trustworthy avenue to truth. 

Scientific men, of course, make mistakes. Sometimes the 
available evidence is slight, and it is not easy to decide 
between conflicting generalizations. Sometimes the inves- 
tigator is insufficiently trained, or lacking in caution, or 
biased. There is always a borderland of science, near its 
farthest frontier, where all is uncertain, and where a theory 
viewed with favor to-day may be rejected to-morrow. 
But this region that is borderland to-day will be safely 
won to-morrow; and behind the frontier lies a vast region 
of thoroughly ascertained knowledge. Thus, while we must 
have no blind reverence for scientists, and should accept 
with caution the latest surmises they offer us, it is bad tac- 
tics to attack science in general in the interests of religion; 
the ensuing revulsion of feeling is bound to do more harm 
' — to the attacker. " The fact of human fallibility, since it 
may be urged against all knowledge, cannot be urged 
against any. It justifies a certain modesty and open-mind- 
edness in all thinkers, but can never constitute ground for 
the rejection of any particular theory. Knowledge can only 
be disproved by better knowledge. If a specific scientific 
theory is doubtful, well and good; but it can justly be re- 
garded as doubtful only for scientific reasons, and these had 
best be left to the scientist himself. It is scarcely necessary 
to add, that if variety and change of opinion are to be urged 
against any branch of knowledge, the philosopher of re- 
ligion can least afford to urge them. For of all cognitive 
enterprises his is on this score the most in need of indul- 
gence." * 

It is, indeed, a poor pass for religion when she has to rest 
her claims on an attack upon the validity of science. For 

1 Perry, op. cit., p. 92. 



THE COUNTER-ATTACK UPON SCIENCE 365 

science is the most successful and splendid of human under- 
takings. Making its way at first against widespread and 
strongly entrenched opposition, it has gradually won gen- 
eral acceptance: and every day adds to its triumphant veri- 
fication of its conclusions. Nothing is more needful for the 
future of theology than that it desist from its futile ob- 
scurantism, its impotent struggle against its now stronger 
brother, and accept openly and gladly whatever truths 
natural science has discovered. And if it too would win for 
man a permanent and unquestioned body of truth, it must 
espouse the same method, and become itself a branch of 
science, or of a scientific philosophy. 

Attacks: I. Kant, Critique of Pure Reason: Transcendental Dia- 
lectic, bk. ii, chap. ii. H. Spencer, First Principles, pt. I. 
A. J. Balfour, A Defence of Philosophic Doubt; The Foundations of 
Belief. J. Ward, Naturalism and Agnosticism. G. P. Fisher, 
Grounds of Theistic and Christian Belief, chap. in. H. C. Sheldon, 
Unbelief in the Nineteenth Century, pt. I. E. Boutroux, Science 
and Religion in Contemporary Philosophy, pt. n, chap. n. W. H. 
Mallock, Religion as a Credible Doctrine, chaps, xi-xni. E. H. 
Rowland, Right to Believe, chap. ii. F. C. S. Schiller, Humanism, 
i, xvm. 

Defenses: W. James, Pluralistic Universe, Appendix A.; Some 
Problems of Philosophy, chaps, x-xi. K. Pearson, Grammar of 
Science, chap, i, sees. 5-8. J. S. Mill, Examination of Sir William 
Hamilton's Philosophy, chaps, i-vi. R. B. Perry, Present Philo- 
sophical Tendencies, pt. n. T. P. Nunn, Aims of Scientific Method. 
G. Santayana, Reason in Science. R. Poincare, Science and Hy- 
pothesis. New World, vol. 5, p. 318. Hibbert Journal, vol. 3, 
p. 452. Journal of Philosophy, Psychology, and Scientific Methods, 
vol. 1. 



CHAPTER XXIII 

THE PROBLEM OF EVIL 

When we are well and light-hearted, when all goes pros- 
perously with us, when 

"The year's at the spring 
And day's at the morn," 

it is natural for us to feel that 

"God's in his heaven, 
All's right with the world.'* 

But when we see evil in some of its acuter forms — a help- 
less child writhing in the grip of unbearable pain, a youth 
of promise and eager ambition thrust by some accident or 
ill-fortune into weakness and failure, lovers separated by 
sudden death at the brink of their happiness, manhood 
lured by insidious temptation to shipwreck and sorrow, 
womanhood crushed by the drudgery of life into a sodden 
hopelessness — it is far easier to believe the universe indif- 
ferent to our human fortunes. There are, indeed, people 
to-day, in our advanced state of cilivization — bought by 
the blood and toil of countless generations — who know 
little of the pain and misery of the world. Well-fed, warmly 
dressed, snugly housed, they find nothing to disturb their 
assurance of the divine ordering of things. One wonders 
whether such people have really known pain — stinging, 
relentless, unendurable physical pain, that will not be 
stilled, that eats the very heart out of a man and leaves no 
thought but that of agony. Have they felt the "grisly, 
blood-freezing, heart-palsying sensation" of fear? Have 



THE PROBLEM OF EVIL 367 

they ever lost the one loved one that made life dear, or 
failed in the one endeavor the heart was set upon, and lived 
on and on, long, blank, bitterly reminiscent years? Have 
they eyes for the dull, patient endurance, the discourage- 
ment, the hopeless misery of millions of earth's poorer 
children even in this prosperous age? 

Of course this is not the whole story. There are many 
good things in this world, so many that, with normal good 
fortune and reasonable wisdom in living, life can be made 
well worth while. To most men life even brings times of 
very deep and overflowing happiness. But there have been 
millions of human beings who have not had such normal 
good fortune. Did not God care for them too? If your wife 
or child were starving to death, pinned under the walls of 
an earthquake-shattered house, would the preponderance of 
pleasure over pain in the life of the average man be of any 
comfort? A good God must have a heart for the sufferings 
of each one of his creatures throughout the ages. 

In any case we should face life with courage and with 
song. We should forget, as long as we can, the sick-rooms, 
the smell of ether, the faces of pale children and careworn 
women. And this optimism of attitude almost irresistibly 
leads to an optimistic world-view. To greet the days with 
good cheer, to respond to the wonder and beauty of the 
world — or rather in the world, to be filled with awe at its 
grandeur, rapture at its loveliness, and thankfulness at 
its opportunities, to declare life well worth living and go at 
it with shout and laughter, is to live it in the fullest and best 
way. And naturally, in such moods, we assent to the expla- 
nation our religion has offered of this beauty and grandeur 
and opportunity — the heavens declare the glory of God and 
the firmament showeth his handiwork! The inward emo- 
tion begets the outward belief; an optimistic frame of mind 
objectifies its emotion and calls the world good, believes it 



368 PHILOSOPHICAL 

arranged and planned to evoke such emotions. Arguments 
fly to the four winds, the goodness of things is patent and 
obvious. More than that, the duty to be cheerful is generally 
taken to be a duty to believe the optimistic doctrine. In 
current opinion disbelief in the latter is invested with the 
meanness and ugliness of the pessimistic mood. 

But though we should be loyal to our world, and love it 
all we can, we need not be blind to its grievous faults. 
However gaily we go to meet life, however bravely and 
buoyantly we take it, we cannot fail, if we are serious, to 
know that it is shot through and through with irredeem- 
able pathos and tragedy. He who has no ideals may praise 
the world as it is; but for him who has conceived what life 
might be under more favorable conditions, the misery and 
sadness of which it so largely consists are not to be glossed 
over or condoned. Is it possible to square this recognition 
of the evil in the world with the belief in a benevolent 
Creator or Ruler thereof? The attempt to answer this 
question gives us the ancient and still unsolved "problem 
of evil." 

Can evil be conceived as a partial view of the good? 

The most radical solution offered is that of those who 
say that evil is merely "appearance," or "illusion," or — 
in Mrs. Eddy's language — "error." It seems evil to us 
merely because we have a shortsighted and partial view of it; 
could we see through God's eyes we should recognize that 
what we have taken to be evil is really a necessary part of 
the divine harmony. Just as a discord which, if taken alone, 
is displeasing, may add to the total excellence of a sym- 
phony; just as the catastrophes and the ugly characters 
may contribute to the interest and artistic effect of a novel 
or drama; so all that we call pain and defect, and even sin, 
may play its essential part in God's complete right. In one 



THE PROBLEM OF EVIL 369 

sense, then, it will still be evil; but in another and deeper 
sense it is good. 

(1) But such speech, though comforting to those who are 
susceptible to the spell of unanalyzed ideas, amounts to 
nothing when examined. It is a merely verbal solution of 
the problem. Pain and suffering are real things, not to be 
made by words into anything else. If suffering is felt, it is 
suffering; for that is what suffering consists of, the feeling 
of it. To call it good is to call black white. Whatever it 
might be to God, it is suffering to us. And what help is it 
to the man who is in an agony of pain or sorrow to know 
that to God it is not evil? The fallacy in this easy solution 
lies in the word "seem"; for this is a case where "seeming" 
equals "being." The locus of suffering is consciousness; and 
if in our consciousness we find suffering, then it is unde- 
niably there. To call it "illusion" or "appearance" is to 
give it a euphemistic name; but just as a rose by any name 
would smell as sweet, so pain by any name would feel as 
bad. Moreover, if what is good to God feels bad to us, that 
" appearance " or "illusion " is in itself an evil, and is as much 
in need of explanation and justification as it was before we 
so labelled it. 

(2) The supposition springs, perhaps, from certain prac- 
tical experiences. It is possible to learn to "transcend" evil, 
to take happily what once provoked our rebelliousness, and 
thus not only to cut out the worrying and fretting and re- 
pining, the fear and regret and despair, that form so large 
a part of our human misery, but to confront present failure 
and loss and actually physical pain itself without unhappi- 
ness. It is possible, that is, if men are taught how to do it, 
if a great emotion pushes them into it, if they have the 
strength of heart to carry it through. But, as a matter of 
observation, few men have realized that it can be done; few 
will ever, probably, have the perseverance and single-mind- 



370 PHILOSOPHICAL 

edness to do it. Poor, ignorant, helpless men and women, 
and still more children and animals, cannot find this dif- 
ficult way, which means so sharp a transformation of human 
nature. And even could all sentient creatures attain to the 
inward poise and peace of the most successful of the Stoics 
or Christian Scientists, their lives would not be so rich and 
full and beautiful as they might have been if the instincts 
and desires that have been crushed and forgotten could have 
been fulfilled. 

(3) We do not actually believe that the evil in the world 
is really good, for we fight hard to abate it. What mockery is 
all our struggle, our sacrifice, our effort, if the evils we are 
overcoming thereby are essential aspects of the universal 
harmony. No, "levity and mysticism may do all they can 
— and they can do much — to make men think moral dis- 
tinctions unauthoritative, because moral distinctions may 
be either ignored or transcended. Yet the essential asser- 
tion that one thing is really better than another remains 
involved in every act of every living being. It is accordingly 
a moral truth which no subterfuge can elude, that some 
things are really better than others. In the daily course of 
affairs we are constantly in the presence of events which by 
turning out one way or the other produce a real, an irrev- 
ocable, increase of good or evil in the world." 1 

Variant forms of this doctrine, that evil is a necessary part 
of good, are to be found in the assertions that good always 
comes out of evil, or that it can exist only by contrast with 
evil. To the first statement it is sufficient to say that it is 
not borne out by observation; good sometimes can be seen 
to come out of evil, but just as often evil can be seen to come 
out of good; and more often good produces further good and 
evil further evil. Illness and poverty sometimes produce 
strength and resourcefulness and invention; but oftener 
1 G. Santayana, Poetry and Religion, p. 100. 



THE PROBLEM OF EVIL 371 

they produce demoralization and ignorance and a host of 
other ills. Good and evil are so interwoven in life that what 
seemed hopelessly bad often proves to have its good side 
or consequences. But there remain multitudes of other 
cases where the opposite is the fact. And in any case, the 
good that "comes out of" evil is a justification of that evil 
only if it could have been attained in no other way. If 
human life is so planned that evils are a necessary precon- 
dition of some goods, here is a pretty problem of evil left 
unsolved. 

The assertion that evil is necessary that good may exist, 
by contrast with it, is likewise contrary to observable facts. 
One kind of happy experience may contrast with another 
equally happy experience. Certain periods in the lives of 
the more fortunate of us bear witness to the possibility of a 
rich and vivid experience without a trace of pain. And the 
purest forms of happiness are those in which there is no hint 
of sorrow, glimpses of that ideal world which we construct 
in our imaginations, picture in art, and look forward to in 
some future heaven. But certainly, if our human nature 
were so formed that we could not be happy without a dose 
of pain, that sad fact would raise a problem of evil all its 
own. And it would effectually chill our faith in a better 
future by showing us the hopelessness of ever escaping from 
that odious law by which joy must always have its comple- 
ment of sorrow. 

Is evil necessary for character-building? 

A much more plausible contention is that the evils in 
the world are necessary as obstacles and goads to prick us 
into energy, to cultivate in us patience, to transform us 
from creatures of impulse into men and women of fortitude 
and self-control. As a loving father may punish his child, 
or set him at an uncongenial task, so may God deal with 



372 PHILOSOPHICAL 

us. We see many a man who has been tempered by pain, made 
wiser, stronger, better. Suffering is part of our education. 
It makes character; and character is worth much suffering. 

(1) But this solution egregiously fails to cover a large 
part of the evil in life. There is the evil that kills. When a 
man starves to death, or is eaten by a tiger, or dies of a 
rattlesnake bite, is he being educated? When a shipload of 
children burn to death, as happened recently in New York 
harbor, is their character being formed? There is suffering 
of babies and of animals; they can hardly be thought to 
be learning moral lessons therefrom. There are the great 
catastrophes like the Messina earthquake and the Mont 
Pelee eruption; not only do they teach no salutary lessons 
to the thousands they kill, but they can hardly be supposed, 
except by a stretch of faith, to produce in the survivors a 
lift of character comparable to the suffering they cause. Pain 
is not tempered to human strength; if it sometimes has the 
power to inspire, it more often has power to depress. Sor- 
row that breaks men's hearts is worse than useless for dis- 
cipline. And take the dull monotony of many lives, the 
withholding of opportunity, the bitter lacks that keep the 
mass of humanity ignorant and cramped and without hope. 
There is suffering that coarsens, that stupefies, that de- 
grades; there is pain that breaks down a man's courage, 
crushes his will, drives him insane. The most ardent en- 
thusiasms, the highest purposes, are checkmated, the purest 
and potentially greatest souls are tortured, limited, flung 
back from their aspirations. Any sensible person who had 
the control of nature, if he wished to use pain as a spur to 
character-building, could distribute and adjust it far more 
wisely and effectively. 

(2) Again, is pain really necessary for the production of 
character? Do we grow in maturity and in virtue in pro- 
portion to the suffering we have to meet? On the contrary, 



THE PROBLEM OF EVIL 373 

it may be plausibly maintained that we develop fastest 
when we find ourselves in the environment which is best 
suited to our needs, when we are happy and useful in it and 
free to exercise our faculties. Healthy children learn through 
happy play and happy study, through imitation of wise and 
loving elders, through contact with noble examples, through 
the persuasiveness of beautiful ideals. When a mother loses 
her child, she may attain through her patient suffering a 
saintly resignation that she would have acquired in no other 
way; but that gain is at the expense of other lessons that 
normal motherhood would have taught her. The withholding 
of opportunity may produce patience; the use of opportunity 
is the only way of reaching to a fully developed manhood 
or womanhood. Were there no pain in life, there would still 
be scope for action and energy in seeking positive goods, 
both for self and for others. There could still be altruism, 
sacrifice, renunciation, love, and self-control; and if there 
could no longer be (in the etymological sense of the term) 
sympathy, there could be more of that happier and equally 
noble virtue which the Germans call Mitfreude. For why 
is it not as beautiful to rejoice with others in their joys as 
to suffer with them in their sorrows? 

(3) Are the virtues produced by pain of any value except 
to enable us better to bear further pain? What do we mean 
by "character" but the ability to react rightly to the con- 
ditions amid which we live, the proper adaptation of our 
impulses to our needs and situation? But were the world 
a pain-free one we should have no need of these particular 
virtues, so laboriously and painfully won. As it is, we rightly 
prize them, but only because we live in a world that makes 
them necessary. In an ideal world they would be out of 
place and loathsome. If there were no pain there would be 
no need of cpurage, longsuffering, endurance, resignation; 
these virtues have the taint of earth upon them, the shadow 



374 PHILOSOPHICAL 

of the primal curse. In a happier world we might be like 
light-hearted, care-free children, free to follow our impulses 
without sin or regret. And who can say that such a spon- 
taneously happy life, filled with love of our fellows, contact 
with beauty, and innocent enjoyments, is not ideally as 
desirable as a life of saintly patience, heroic endurance of 
pain, and grim self-mastery? 

(4) Granted that this sterner side of character is intrin- 
sically desirable, why did not God create us with such a 
character to start with? Why should we have to remould 
ourselves, deny many of the sweetest impulses with which we 
were endowed, and cultivate new impulses? There may be 
some satisfaction in being in so far self-made, but who would 
not exchange that rather vainglorious pleasure for the sake 
of a strong character from the beginning — not to speak of 
escaping all the pain and agony of the process. If God could 
create all this complex and intricate world, create us with 
all our impulses and delicate adjustments, why could he not 
have adjusted our impulses a little more exactly, weakened 
our selfish passions, strengthened our love of purity, of 
honesty, of service, and thus saved us our stumbling and 
our sin! The loving human father, if he had the power to 
give his son better impulses, would be glad to spare the rod; if 
he could instantaneously give him wisdom and character 
without the dull routine of grammar and lexicon, without 
the mistakes and the pain, he would rejoice to do so. The 
father punishes his child only because of his powerlessness to 
endow him directly with virtue; it is an unhappy last resort. 
But is God equally limited in his power? Again we find our 
problem of evil confronting us, in a but slightly altered form. 

Is evil necessary at a stage in the evolution of humanity? 

If evil cannot be justified from the point of view of the 

individual life, can it be said to be a necessary accom- 



THE PROBLEM OF EVIL 375 

paniment of the ascent of mankind from brutehood, to be 
finally forgiven when it disappears in the millenium to come? 
Certainly man is conquering, one by one, many of the evils 
that have plagued him; the individual, thanks to science, 
has now to suffer far less, on the average, than his ancestors, 
and another dozen centuries may find man freed from many 
other of the evils that have cursed his existence. This prog- 
ress of the race is a legitimate source of pride and pleasure, 
and the proper goal of our effort; can it also serve as the 
basis for a satisfactory theodicy? 

(1) We see at once that an omnipotent ruler of the uni- 
verse could not be thus exonerated. For we must not make 
a fetish of the concept of "progress." The value of progress 
consists only in the goal attained; and if God is omnipotent, 
why should he bring men to that goal by a road that involves 
the suffering of the first few hundreds of billions of his hu- 
man creatures? Why should he not have given them the 
fruits that only the later-born are to enjoy? Or at least 
have made them more intelligent, resourceful, able to pro- 
gress faster? Think of the kind of life that most men have 
been vouchsafed! The vast majority of them, counting 
from the beginning, have grown up amid savage and harsh 
conditions, without comforts, without arts, with hardly a 
glimmer of reason or beauty or religion. Naked, half -brutish 
creatures, fighting one another, feasting gluttonously or 
starving, as chance offered, knowing no better, stupidly 
satisfied or dumbly miserable — what beings for an omni- 
potent God to create! No, the less desirable stages of evolu- 
tion can only be excused if they were the only feasible way 
of attaining the higher stages; and to say that they were 
the only way, that God could not have endowed human 
nature at its first creation with the wisdom and skill and 
virtue and physical faculties necessary for a happy life, is 
very seriously to limit his omnipotence. 



376 PHILOSOPHICAL 

(2) Even were we to grant that the method of evolution 
is, for some reason, intrinsically desirable, is it fair to those 
who have been sacrificed on the way? Would the lucky 
generations of earth's hypothetically blissful future wish to 
buy their happiness, however exquisite, at the price of all 
the pain that their long line of ancestors will have endured? 
However great the ultimate balance of joy over sorrow may 
be, for humanity as a whole, would that overplus of happi- 
ness justify the suffering of those, even if they were but 
a few instead of millions, to whom life brought agony and 
fear and 'despair? 

(3) Again, if an evolution, an unfolding of potentialities, 
a ripening of powers, is desirable in itself, there might con- 
ceivably have been such a development that should have 
been beautiful and happy in all its stages, like the growth of 
a rose from the bud, or the life of an exceptionally fortunate 
man from healthy childhood through ardent youth to ma- 
ture age. Each stage might have had its peculiar sweetness, 
and all might have been free from pain. If animals had not 
been made carnivorous, if disease-germs and insect pests and 
poisonous reptiles had been eliminated, if sentient creatures 
had been made without pain-nerves, and withal had been 
made less fertile, so as to prevent overcrowding, the earlier 
stages of evolution might have been, although devoid of 
much that makes a developed civilization rich and joyous, 
yet in their own way interesting and pleasant, instead of full 
of tragedy and pain. 

(4) Finally, unless human nature and its earthly environ- 
ment can be made over far more radically than we can easily 
conceive possible, life on earth must always have its share 
of tragedy and pathos and suffering. Accidents will happen, 
earthquakes and thunderbolts and volcanic eruptions will 
continue to destroy and maim, fire will burn, falls will bruise; 
and even if man succeeds in taming his chaotic instincts and 



THE PROBLEM OF EVIL 377 

impulses and in preventing physical death, there will remain 
inevitable forms of suffering and loss which would form a 
residue of evil still to be accounted for. 

Is evil the result of man's perverse use of his free will? 

But perhaps evil is due not to the Creator, but to the 
creatures themselves. Given free choice, they have per- 
versely taken the wrong path, and plunged themselves into 
all their troubles. No doubt the Creator foresaw their per- 
versity, but deemed it better to give them their freedom, 
at their own risk, than to endow them with impulses that 
would inevitably lead them in the ways of safety. There are 
those who assert that we should not wish a world in which 
we had no option to choose evil; the dignity that thus ac- 
crues to human nature is worth the cost. And if men have 
brought sorrow upon their own heads, they alone are to 
blame. 

(1) But is this dubious gift of "free will" worth the pain 

that is thus charged to its account? Surely no humane man, 

witnessing the suffering of those he loves, would wish to 

keep his freedom to choose evil at such a price. Would we 

not really prefer, or should we not rationally prefer, to be 

so made that we could not help doing right, if we might 

thereby save all the suffering and degradation and sin in the 

world, satisfy all those longings which, as it is, are so largely 

destined not to be fulfilled, develop those capacities which 

have never been unfolded, attain to some measure of that 

wonderful happiness which we glimpse now only in a few 

rare and fleeting moments? l 

1 Cf. Ruskin, Athena, p. 114: "You will send your child, will you, into 
a room where the table is loaded with sweet wine and fruit — some poi- 
soned, some not? — you will say to him, 'Choose freely, my little child! 
It is so good for you to have freedom of choice: it forms your character, 
your individuality! If you take the wrong cup, or the wrong berry, you 
will die before the day is over, but you will have acquired the dignity of 
a Free child!'" 



378 PHILOSOPHICAL 

(2) But granting "free will" to be a great desideratum, 
why need there have been any evils to choose? Why not 
simply a great variety of unequally desirable goods, amid 
which we could exercise our choice to any desired degree? 
Why need the results of wrong choices have been made so 
terrible? Or if the presence of potential pain adds a tang 
which is worth the danger, why should men not have been 
endowed with a stronger love of the good, a more insistent 
altruistic instinct, and less imperious impulses that lead to 
ruin? A world of free agents can be conceived in which all 
the dignity and satisfaction inhering in the making of choices 
could coexist with a freedom from suffering, a wrong choice 
involving at worst the loss of a possible joy. 

(3) Whatever our belief may be with reference to the 
deterministic-indeterministic controversy, at least our con- 
duct is to a very large degree determined by heredity and 
environment. We choose what we do because we have 
inherited certain instincts and been under the influence of 
certain educative and suggestive forces. Is it fair to give 
us such instincts and impulses, and then to punish us for 
following them? Not to attempt to answer the now discarded 
theory that we are involved in the punishment of Adam's 
primal sin, and supposing that our suffering is the result of 
our own misdeeds, those misdeeds are the direct result of 
the animal inheritance which persists in us, which we did 
not choose and cannot escape. If God created us with such 
instincts and desires, he is ultimately responsible for the 
acts into which they lead us. 

(4) But after all, it is quite plain that only a small pro- 
portion of the suffering in the world can be laid to the door 
of "free will." It is not merely the wicked that suffer, or the 
foolish and imprudent. Much of our pain is thrust upon 
us independently of our volitions. The diseases that torture 
us, the wild animals that eat us, the lightning and flood and 



THE PROBLEM OF EVIL 379 

drought, the drudgery we have to undergo to live at all, 
death that takes our loved ones from us and stares us all in 
the face — these evils and many others could not have been 
removed by the most conscientious exercise of free will. All 
this evil, and the suffering of the animal world, which must 
total an enormous amount, must be excused in some other 
way. 

Is evil to be attributed to God at all? 

If God is omnipotent, he is ultimately responsible for 
everything that happens. Since evils exist, it must be 
because he is willing that they should. Unless the existence 
of evil is not an evil — and that involves a contradiction in 
terms — he is content that the world should be less good 
than it might be. It is not enough to say that he prefers to 
tolerate these evils rather than involve the world in greater 
evil or deprive it of its present joys; for if he is omnipotent 
he can obviate those other evils and secure the joys without 
permitting these evils. But a God content to have a world 
with evil in it when he could make it free from evil would 
be a malevolent Being, unworthy of our worship, and not 
properly to be called by the sacred name "God." Hence, 
though we cannot disprove the existence of such a cruel 
omnipotent Being, it is a far more satisfying conception to 
believe in a God who is all-good, but unable, for one reason 
or another, to remove the evil in the world, or to remove it 
without bringing on greater evils; a God who could perhaps 
achieve any one good he pleased, but cannot attain an ideal 
combination of goods. Such a Being may still be so im- 
mensely superior in power to any other living being as to 
deserve a term approaching "omnipotence," especially if 
his power be great enough ultimately to overcome evil and 
bring in the millennium. And perhaps this faith in God's 
final victory is all that is really to be understood by the term. 



380 PHILOSOPHICAL 

But omnipotent in the literal sense of the word God cannot 
be without forfeiting his right to the epithet " good." For 
either he could not make a better world or he did not wish to. 
The former is the pleasanter alternative. 

By thus giving up, in the literal sense, God's "omnipo- 
tence," we not only save his goodness, but we fall more 
into line with the actual belief of the great majority of 
Christians. Cling as they may to the comforting thought of 
his all-powerfulness, they have almost universally refused 
to attribute to him the bad in the world. Jesus, like the 
prophets before him, offered no solution of the problem of 
evil. But he evidently believed in a personal Devil, opposed 
to God; and popular Christianity has usually been more 
or less vaguely dualist ic, regarding God not as the Prin- 
ciple of all nature, but as the Principle of the Good. If evil 
is not conceived to spring from the machinations of an Evil 
Spirit, it may be thought to be due to the obduracy of the 
material with which God has to work. Or, as in the Platonic- 
Aristotelian conception, God may be, not the Author of 
the universe, but its Saviour, not creating it, but drawing 
it toward his perfectness. The universe is certainly, in some 
sense, alive; it is acting and developing according to its own 
inner nature. God may be, instead of its begetter, a Great 
Power interpenetrating it, working in and through it, and 
bending its independent life toward we know not what 
glorious final consummation. 

Some such conception has been the stay of many of the 
noblest souls. "The only admissible moral theory of Crea- 
tion is that the Principle of Good cannot at once and alto- 
gether subdue the powers of evil, either physical or moral. 
... Of all the religious explanations of the order of nature, 
this alone is neither contradictory to itself or to the facts 
for which it attempts to account. According to it, man's 
duty would consist not in simply taking care of his own in- 



THE PROBLEM OF EVIL 381 

terests by obeying irresistible power, but in standing forward 
a not ineffectual auxiliary to a Being of perfect beneficence ; 
a faith which seems much better adapted for nerving him to 
exertion than a vague and inconsistent reliance on an Au- 
thor of Good who is supposed to be also the author of evil. 
And I venture to assert that such has really been, though 
often unconsciously, the faith of all who have drawn strength 
and support of any worthy kind from trust in a superintend- 
ing Providence. There is no subject on which men's prac- 
tical belief is more incorrectly indicated by the words they 
use to express it, than religion. . . . Those who have been 
strengthened in goodness by relying on the sympathizing 
support of a powerful and good Governor of the world, 
have, I am satisfied, never really believed that Governor 
to be, in the strict sense of the term, omnipotent. They have 
always saved his goodness at the expense of his power. They 
have believed, perhaps, that he could, if he willed, remove 
all the thorns from their individual path, but not without 
causing greater harm to some one else, or frustrating some 
purpose of greater importance to the general well-being." 1 

1 J. S. Mill, Nature (in Three Essays on Religion). Cf. James, Varieties 
of Religious Experience, pp. 132-33: "The gospel of healthy-mindedness 
casts its vote distinctly for this pluralistic view. Whereas the monistic 
philosopher finds himself more or less bound to say, as Hegel said, that 
everything actual is rational, and that evil, as an element dialectically 
required, must be pinned in and kept and consecrated and have a func- 
tion awarded to it in the final system of truth, healthy-mindedness refuses 
to say anything of the sort. Evil, it says, is emphatically irrational, and 
not to be pinned in, or preserved, or consecrated in any final system of truth. 
It is a pure abomination to the Lord, an alien unreality, a waste element, 
to be sloughed off and negated, and the very memory of it, if possible, 
wiped out and forgotten." 

And cf. Samuel McChord Crothers (Among Friends, p. 235): "The con- 
clusion of pseudo-optimism that 'whatever is is right,' is a dreary con- 
clusion and a travesty on Faith. It is a way of saying that all the ills 
from which men suffer are irremediable, and that we might as well pretend 
that we like them. The contention of Ethics is that much that is is wrong, 
and that it is our privilege to make it right, and the sooner we go about 
our work the better." 



382 PHILOSOPHICAL 

At any rate, if we accept this view, we are absolved from 
the baffling task of justifying the existence of evil and apolo- 
gizing for the world as it is. We are not to condone it, we 
are to hate it, as God hates it, and fight it, as God is fighting 
it. We are called to be co-workers with God, who needs our 
help. There will then be no more a problem of evil than there 
is a problem of good. Or rather, the only problem of evil 
will be the problem of how quickest to get rid of it, how so 
to work that future generations will have less of it to bear; 
and meanwhile, how to bear it ourselves with serenity and 
inward peace. 

\ 
J. S. Mill, "Nature," in Three Essays on Religion; Examination 

of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy, chap. vn. G. Galloway, 
Philosophy of Religion, chap. xiv. B. P. Bowne, Theism, pp. 
262-86. G. Santayana, Reason in Religion, chap. ix. A. M. Fair- 
bairn, Philosophy of the Christian Religion, bk. I, chaps, ih-iv. 
Anon., Evil and Evolution (Macmillan, 1899). F. Paulsen, System 
of Ethics, bk. n, chaps, in, iv, vni. G. A. Gordon, Immortality 
and the New Theodicy. E. H. Rowland, Right to Believe, chap. v. 
C. Gore, ed. Lux Mundi, chap. in. F. C. Wilm, Problem of Religion, 
chap. vi. J. M. E. McTaggart, Some Dogmas of Religion, sees. 
171-215. G. T. Ladd, Philosophy of Religion, vol. 2, chap. xxxn. 
T. Caird, Fundamental Ideas of Christianity, lects. viii-xi. A. K. 
Rogers, Religious Conception of the World, pp. 231-60. W. N. 
Clarke, Christian Doctrine of God, pp. 431-62. J. Wedgwood, The 
Moral Ideal, chap. viii. Harvard Theological Review, vol. 7, p. 378. 
Hibbert Journal, vol. 1, p. 425; vol. 2, p. 767. 



CHAPTER XXIV 

IMMORTALITY 

The evolution of the belief in a future life 

So accustomed have we of Christian nurture become to 
faith in a future life, happier than the present, that we are 
apt to forget how few out of the billions that have lived on 
earth have shared that anticipation. Yet it is a recent one in 
man's history. Primitive man, to be sure, in his inability to 
realize the fact of death, commonly thought of his friends 
and foes as continuing to exist in some vague and shadowy 
fashion. Such a ghostly future existence has been believed 
in by most peoples. But it has been rather dreaded than 
longed for; it has been seldom thought of as a condition 
of bliss, as a reward or consolation, but usually as an una- 
voidable and dubious fate. Homer, for example, in a well- 
known passage, 1 makes one of his heroes declare that the 
humblest earthly life is to be preferred to the best estate in 
the underworld. Many of the more cultivated of the an- 
cients, however, rejected the idea altogether, as a mere su- 
perstition, and looked forward calmly to their individual 
extinction. The hopefulness of Socrates in the matter stands 
out in sharp contrast to the unbelief of his friends, and evi- 
dently occasions them surprise. "'Are you not aware,'" 
Plato makes him say to Glaucon, " ' that the soul is immortal 
and imperishable?' He looked at me in astonishment, and 
said: ' No, indeed; you do not mean to say that you are able 
to prove that.'" 2 

1 Odyssey, bk. xr, 489-91. 

2 Republic, 608. Cf. ibid., 330: "Let me tell you, Socrates, that when a 



384 PHILOSOPHICAL 

Among the Jews matters stood about the same, a general 
naive belief in a pale and rather undesirable future existence 
in an underworld yielding among the more reflective to a 
skeptical attitude. King Hezekiah said, when facing death: 
" I shall go to the gates of the grave, I shall not see Jehovah 
in the land of the living. . . . The grave cannot praise thee: 
they that down go into the pit cannot hope for thy truth. 
The living, the living man alone shall praise thee, as I do 
this day." 1 

In similar vein the psalmist wrote: "I am counted with 
them that go down into the pit; I am as a man that hath 
no strength, free among the dead, like the slain that lie 
in the grave, whom thou rememberest no more; they are 
cut off from thy hand . . . Wilt thou show wonders to the 
dead? Can the dead arise and praise thee? Shall thy loving 
kindness be declared in the grave, or thy faithfulness in 
destruction? Shall thy wonders be known in the dark, and 
thy righteousness in the land of f orgetf ulness ? " 2 And again : 
" In death there is no remembrance of thee; in the grave who 
shall give thee thanks? " 3 

The author of the Book of Job, in his vain endeavor to 
find a solution for the problem of evil, does not attempt to 
justify evil through its relation to a future and happier life. 
" There is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout 
again. But a man dieth, and wasteth away; yea, a man 
giveth up the ghost, and where is he? As the waters fail from 
the sea, and the flood decayeth and drieth up, so man lieth 

man thinks himself to be near death he has fears and cares which never 
entered into his mind before; the tales of a life below and the punishment 
which is exacted there of deeds done here were a laughing matter to him 
once; but now he is haunted with the thought that they may be true." 
Cf. also the Phcedo. It is true, however, that the Greek mystery religions 
taught a faith in a happy future life. And the Christian conception may 
owe a great deal to them. This point has not yet been cleared up satis- 
factorily. 

1 Isa. 38 : 9-19. 2 Ps. 88. 3 Ps. 6 : 5. 



IMMORTALITY 385 

down and riseth not; till the heavens be no more, they 
shall not awake, or be raised out of their sleep. ... If a 
man die, shall he live again!" x 

And in Ecclesiastes we read, "Whatsoever thy hand find- 
eth to do, do it with thy might; for there is no work, nor de- 
vice, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave whither 
thou goest." 2 

The Christian belief in heaven springs from neither the 
Jewish nor the pagan conception of the underworld-life of 
departed shades. It comes from a radically different source, 
namely, the late-Jewish hope in a coming Messianic King- 
dom on earth. What the Jews had really thought of and 
longed for was simply long life on this earth, with children 
to inherit their name and preserve their memory. But as 
they lived generation after generation, oppressed, ground 
under foot by stronger races, they came more and more 
passionately to believe in an ultimate reversal of affairs, 
a time when Jehovah should manifest his power and love for 
them, smite their enemies, and establish an era of prosperity 
and peace. We have traced in an earlier chapter the rise of 
this belief, and then its transformation in Gentile minds 
into the belief in a future life in the skies, whither the faith- 
ful should go when the last trump sounded. 3 Gradually, as 
the expected New Age did not appear, and believers died 
without participation in it, it came to be held that their 
souls, separating themselves from the body at death, went 
at once to their reward in this heavenly region. 

The conception of heaven has always been vague and 
unsatisfactory in Christian thought, but the belief in it 
remained hardly shaken until the more critical reflection 
of modern times turned its search-light upon all the tra- 
ditional dogmas. 

1 Job 14: 7-14. 2 Eccles. 9: 10. 

3 See pp. GO-62; 75-79; 93-95; 109-111. 



386 PHILOSOPHICAL 

What considerations make against the belief? 

(1) It takes no critical acumen to perceive the prima 
facie case against immortality. In all our experience a 
man's conscious life is bound up with the fortunes of his 
body. We see men stunned by a blow, we see their minds 
enfeebled by bodily injury, we see their bodies killed and 
with that their mental life apparently ended. Conscious- 
ness seems to be dependent upon the body's supply of food, 
air, and sleep, and its safety from harm. To suppose that 
when the bodily mechanism stops entirely, consciousness, 
which has been so subject to its influence, gains a new lease 
of life on its own account, has always been difficult for re- 
flective persons. And this explains, no doubt, the pale and 
impotent existence which the ancients almost universally 
attributed to the dead. 

(2) The rise of modern physiological psychology, showing 
us, as it does, the intimate correlation of mind and brain, 
increases the difficulties of faith. We have discovered that 
thinking tires the brain; or, to put it the other way, the 
fatigue of brain-cells retards and inhibits thinking. The 
loss of memory, weakening of the will, increase in petulance 
of old age go hand in hand with a degeneration of brain- 
tissue. Certain kinds of consciousness are bound up with 
specific parts of the brain; when a certain portion of the 
brain is diseased or injured, the mind is affected in a definite 
manner. Whatever may be the relation between brain and 
consciousness, the study of the close parallelism between 
their activities makes it harder to resist the conviction that 
the disintegration of the one involves the disintegration of 
the other. 

(3) Moreover, it is difficult to conceive what conscious life 
can be like, without a physical body, with its sense organs 
and organs of expression. If we cut out of our consciousness 



IMMORTALITY 387 

the visual, auditory, tactile, motor, and other bodily pro- 
duced images, what have we left? Very little if anything. 
Yet how could we have visual experiences without eyes, 
or touch-experiences without hands? And, setting aside 
the questions what sort of consciousness we could have, and 
how we could communicate with our friends, what would 
they mean to us apart from their bodies? Take away the 
look of your dear one, her facial expression, the light in her 
eyes, the sound of her voice, the grace of her movements, 
the touch of her hand, what have you remaining to attract 
and interest you? 

(4) Modern psychology has no longer any use for the con- 
cept of " soul." But if there is a " soul," a something inhabit- s 
ing the body as a tenant, and separable from it at death, 
where does it abide, how does it get into the body, when does 

it get into the body, when does it leave the body, and how? 
Do portions of the parents' souls separate themselves, join 
together with the joining of the germ plasms at conception, 
to form a new immortal soul? If so, does it remain immortal 
if the incipient foetus is ejected from the woman's body, if 
miscarriage takes place, or the child is still-born? Or does 
a new soul come somewhence at the moment of birth, and 
enter the child when it first breathes? The more clearly we 
realize the continuity of the physical processes of conception, 
pregnancy, and birth, the more difficult it becomes to know 
where to interpolate a soul. 

(5) A similar continuity is seen to pervade the course of 
evolution, whereby man has emerged from a brute ancestry. 

If man is immortal, must not his brute ancestors have been ^ 
immortal, and their descendants in the diverging, non-hu- 
man lines? A rather disagreeable alternative seems to be 
offered. On the one hand, you may say that at a certain 
point in his ascent, man acquired immortality. If so, there 
was a time, in the slow evolution of the human type, when 



388 PHILOSOPHICAL 

parents who, like all their ancestors, were doomed to die, 
gave birth to a child who was blessed with an immortal 
future. By what miracle was this momentous change ef- 
fected? It seems unfair to the generations preceding. On 
the other hand, if you postulate no such moment of acqui- 
sition of an immortal soul, you must grant immortality to all 
the animals — and then perhaps to the plants too, for the 
vegetable and animal kingdoms merge gradually one into 
the other, just as brutehood grew insensibly into manhood. 
Many animals are, indeed, more intelligent and more affec- 
tionate than human babies, or underwitted men, idiots, and 
— doubtless — primitive savages; one would like to imag- 
ine one's pet dog immortal. But when it comes to tigers and 
snakes and mosquitoes and bedbugs and cholera microbes, 
our imagination halts! 

(6) Where is the heaven to which souls go at death? It 
was easy enough for the ancients to picture a heavenly 
region up above the dome of the sky, easy enough for the 
evangelist to think of Jesus as having ascended into heaven 
and sitting there on the right hand of God. But we have 
long since learned the naivete of that primitive world- view. 
We can no longer believe, with Dante, in an island in the 
Western sea, to which Ulysses could sail, where the moun- 
tain of purgatory reaches up to paradise. Nor can we believe 
that sulphur springs and volcanic steam bubble up from a 
hades under the earth where departed souls groan in tor- 
ment. The stellar universe, as we scan it with our telescopes, 
offers indeed unlimited ports to which we may conceive of 
ourselves as going; but there seems something grotesque 
about the fancy of our winging our way to Sirius or the 
Pleiades. And whatever heaven may He beyond the stars, 
millions of millions of miles away, we cannot easily feel so 
sure of it as the pre-Copernicans did of their paradise of 
God just above the ninth sphere. 



IMMORTALITY 389 

All these skeptical reflections give us, however, nothing 
but a series of difficulties in the way of belief. They may be 
met by the reminder that we naturally cannot conceive our 
future life, because we have no experience thereof. We see 
only one side of the veil; and all we know is that the departed 
no longer figure in our earthly existence. In the nature of the 
case, we cannot disprove immortality; nor does the lack 
of evidence, in this case, constitute a presumption against 
it, since, if a future life is a reality, there is no reason to 
suppose that it is such as to be in contact with, and revealed 
to, this present life. The relation of mind to brain may be 
conceived in such a way as to make them separable; and it 
is easy to formulate answers to the other objections, which, 
if they have no positive evidence to support them, have 
equally no evidence against them. We may turn then with 
open minds to consider the leading arguments for the be- 
lief in immortality. 

What are the leading arguments for the belief? 

(1) The older Christian preaching based its argument for 
immortality upon the supposedly indubitable fact of the 
resurrection of Christ. But a critical study of the Gospel 
narratives has long since shown them to be late, confused, 
mutually contradictory, and in many respects obviously 
legendary; more than that, they are at odds with the ear- 
liest Christian preaching, as vouched for in the letters of 
Paul. Paul and the apostles undoubtedly believed them- 
selves to have had revelations of the risen Lord; and that 
these were genuine revelations we may well believe. But 
just what their experiences were we shall never know; and 
that they were mistaken in taking them for revelations of 
the risen Christ must be admitted to be possible. 1 In any 
case, that the Messiah, a unique figure with a unique mis- 
1 See above, pp. 82-84 and 288. 



390 PHILOSOPHICAL 

sion, should have risen from the dead does not prove that 
ordinary men can do so. Christ's own words on the matter, 
and those of Paul and the other early Christian writers, 
are so sharply at variance with our modern conception of 
the future life that we cannot use them to support our own 
faith except by reading into them a meaning foreign to their 
original intention. For the future life anticipated by Christ, 
and all of his immediate predecessors, contemporaries, and 
followers, was a life on earth, with a renovated Jerusalem 
for its capital, to be preceded by the great Judgment Day, 
and inaugurated within that generation. Our modern 
hopes have grown so far away from that naive conception 
that the faith of Christ in God and that of the disciples in 
Christ can hardly serve us as more than a stimulus to an 
equally daring though necessarily different and less tangible 
faith. 

(2) Another Biblical support for faith, still often used, is 
Paul's analogy of the seed. 1 Briefly, the idea is this: as a seed 
seems to die when buried in the ground, but really gives 
birth to a new life, so may the human body, when dead and 
buried, pass into a new form of life. When read in the vague 
and sounding periods of the King James Bible, Paul's 
rhetoric easily wins assent from the unthinking. But a mo- 
ment's thought suffices to show how empty it is. There is 
really no analogy between the buried seed and the buried 
body; the one, still living, and finding itself in an environ- 
ment favorable to its growth, proceeds to develop into a 
plant; the other, which is really dead, disintegrates and 
returns to dust. The greater life that develops, by physical 
laws, out of the living seed is still a physical life, continuous 
with that which preceded ; the new life postulated to succeed 
that of the human body is a non-physical life, invisible, in- 
tangible, utterly out of relation to the physical world, in 

1 1 Cor. 15 : 35-44. 



IMMORTALITY 391 

which the germination of the seed is a natural and intelli- 
gible event. Moreover, at best, the plant produced from a 
seed is a different plant from that which bore the seed; there 
is no analogy here that points toward immortality of the 
individual. Every tree and herb dies in its time; it is only 
its descendants that survive. The human body has simi- 
larly its seed, buried in the mother's womb as the plant's 
seed is buried in the earth, there to give rise to a new life, 
which, however, has no continuity of memory or purpose 
with the parent life. This is the true analogy of the plant 
seed; there is an indefinitely continued life of the germ plasm, 
transmitted from body to body. But this is not personal 
immortality; the individual is only a transient by-product, 
surviving long enough to hand on the life force to its de- 
scendants. 

(3) Perhaps the belief in immortality is oftenest held to- 
day as a corollary of the belief in God. Since God is good, 
it is felt, he cannot be so cruel as to deny us our deepest 
longing, to live on and to have our dear ones live. But the 
argument is over hasty. If God is not omnipotent, we can- 
not be sure that he can secure immortality for us. If he is 
omnipotent, we might suppose that he would not deny us 
immortality; but in view of the fact that we are denied so 
much that we should have supposed, a priori, that a good 
God would give us, we cannot be sure that he will not deny 
us this too. Many evils exist, in spite of God's existence; 
why not death too? If we were ignorant of the actual fact 
we might argue with equal cogency that since God is good, 
he could not be so cruel as to send suffering into the world, 
pain that crushes, agony that kills. Surely the parallelism 
of the two arguments should show that both are inconclu- 
sive. The fact is, we know as little about God's nature and 
power as we do about our own future; our trust in a per- 
sonal Ruler of the universe, who is to triumph over evil, 



392 PHILOSOPHICAL 

is as much a venture of faith as our trust in our own im- 
mortality, and cannot be used to prove it. 

(4) Another argument that figures prominently in current 
discussions is that which declares that we have an " instinct" 
or " instinctive longing" for immortality, and that instincts 
do not exist unless there are objects that can gratify them. 
In a moderate degree this is true. We have an instinctive 
wish to live, and we do have an object which can gratify it 
to some extent — we have some life. But few instinctive 
longings are gratified to the extent that we could wish; the 
instinctive longing for love, for power, for pleasure and free- 
dom from pain — which of our longings is more than in 
slight measure fulfilled? Why may it not be so with our 
longing for life — we get some, but not nearly so much as 
we might desire. It is easy to see (to turn from dialectic to 
history) that those individuals that had some desire to live 
would be the only ones that would survive the long struggle 
for existence; this is the actual cause of the presence in us 
of the desire to live — this very transient earthly life called it 
forth, not necessarily any heavenly life beckoning from above. 

(5) Certain scientific and philosophical speculations have 
frequently been invoked. The doctrines of the Conserva- 
tion of Energy and the Persistence of Matter are held to 
show that nothing can possibly perish; when wood is burned, 
the same elements continue to exist in altered combinations, 
and when the body decays its constituents live on in other 
forms. And indeed, we need not question that the elements 
that go to make up our personalities persist into the indef- 
inite future. But if those elements, like the body's cells, 
disintegrate and pass into other forms, would there be pos- 
sible any continuity of memory or purpose? Consciousness, 
as the name implies, is an organic whole made up of many 
elements; only the persistence of this combination of elements 
would, apparently, constitute personal immortality. And 



IMMORTALITY 393 

such a continuity the doctrines above mentioned, even con- 
sidering them proved, cannot guarantee. 

Similarly, the "idealistic" metaphysics, which declares 
everything to be really "mind," or "spirit," and not "mat- 
ter " at all, even if granted (and it is granted by but a minor- 
ity of philosophers to-day), can bring us no farther toward 
a proof of the survival of the individual. To call the stuff of 
which the world is made "mental" instead of "material" is 
rhetorically suggestive; but a "mental" world may be as 
unconcerned with our personal fortunes as a "material" 
world. Let the universe be throughout a mass of mind 
stuff, or even a great consciousness, a World-Soul, or Ab- 
solute; grant the immortality of that universal life; and we 
are yet far from any evidence that you and I shall know each 
other in the future cycles of that Life, or that the ideals 
dear to us shall be attained. 

(6) The only real attempt to bring forward evidence of a 
future life is that which has been made by the spiritualists 
and the societies for psychical research, in their investiga- 
tions of automatic writing, table-turning, and the other 
trance phenomena, which are often so puzzling and often 
so uncanny. The study of these facts is still in its infancy; 
bulky volumes of "proceedings" have been published, and 
have convinced a few serious students of the reality of com- 
munications from departed spirits. But comparatively few 
scientifically trained men have been convinced by them, 
and this for several reasons. In the first place, it is by no 
means demonstrated that other explanations of the phenom- 
ena are untenable. The hypothesis of telepathic communi- 
cation from living people is held by many to account for 
all the more puzzling facts. Others hold that they can be 
explained, so far as they are genuine, in terms of the sub- 
ject's own subconsciousness. Certainly many of these 
phenomena that were once held to imply spirit-communica- 



394 PHILOSOPHICAL 

tion have been definitely relegated to the domain of the 
psychology of the subconscious, and the presumption is 
that other phenomena, now inexplicable, will be similarly 
interpreted as our psychological knowledge widens. A sec- 
ond reason for skepticism lies in the great amount of mal- 
observation and superstition and actual fraud that has been 
discovered in these matters. Many students become so dis- 
gusted with the fraudulent practices in which some of the 
leading mediums have been caught that they will have 
nothing more to do with the whole business. In the third 
place, the sayings and doings of these rapping and squeak- 
ing ghosts are, for the most part, so trashy and silly and 
beneath the dignity of immortal souls, and withal so uncon- 
tributive to our knowledge, that serious investigators are 
apt to lose patience with them. Why do Alexander the 
Great and Edgar Allan Poe and an Indian Princess (to 
mention three "spirits" of whose presence, in succession, the 
writer was once assured) deliver themselves of such closely 
similar and equally paltry messages? 

In reply to these criticisms, the spiritualists admit the 
existence of much malobservation, and of much fraud; they 
usually admit the applicability to many cases of the expla- 
nations by means of telepathy or the subconsciousness of the 
subject. But they insist that a residue of genuine phenomena 
remain, inexplicable save on the spiritistic hypothesis. If 
the words of the departed seem confused or absurd, it is per- 
haps because their intrusion into our world is abnormal, and 
they are unable to send through the veil that separates us 
more than these hardly articulate messages. It has even 
been suggested that what we get is their dream-life, which 
may be as chaotic and absurd as our own. At any rate, we 
must not reject this mass of unassimilated evidence simply 
because it is distasteful to us. And if the evidence should 
point toward a continued existence which is but brief, a 



IMMORTALITY 395 

gradual fading out of consciousness after death, perhaps, or 
a future life like that which the ancients imagined, pale, 
ineffectual, unhappy, at least the actual knowledge that 
death is not final, that the soul can survive the body's decay, 
would go far toward encouraging in us the faith toward 
which we yearn. 

In the end, after all our argumentation, pro and con, we 

must, if we are candid and sincere, admit our ignorance. 

Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, aught that takes place 

beyond the flamantia mcenia mundi. We are no better off 

than the Persian poet who wrote, — 

"Strange, is it not, that of the myriads who 
Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through 
Not one returns to tell us of the Road 
Which to discover we must travel too." 

We cannot prove what is the end of all our hearts' desire. 
If any man think that he can prove it, he is (to echo Kant) 
just the man we want to see — until we have listened so 
long to alleged "proofs" that the hope long deferred maketh 
our hearts sick. Science gives us no evidence; and few 
philosophers have been able to construct systems that should 
include personal immortality. Nor is it necessary to believe ; 
our duty is the same in any case. If we cannot believe in a 
future life, we can set to and make this life brave and glorious. 
Multitudes of men who have had not even hope in life 
beyond the grave have found this earthly life full of zest 
and savor, and have helped to make the lives of their fellows 
happier and better while they lasted. To sulk, to give way 
to depression or apathy, because this life were all, would be 
the part of cowardice and folly; while to give rein to lust 
and immorality because of a removal of fear of future ret- 
ribution would be to expose the stupidity and selfishness 
of a soul that had never grasped the natural worth of virtue 
or learned to love what is most precious in this life. 



396 PHILOSOPHICAL 

But if faith in our future is not absolutely necessary, 
it yet adds immense vistas and a deep joy to life; it gives a 
great stimulus to moral endeavor; it brings a salve to sorrow; 
it takes away the sting from death. And if we cannot prove 
our faith, we may yet believe where we cannot prove. Cicero 
declared that he had rather be mistaken with Plato than 
be in the right with those who deny the life after death; 
and a noted American scholar, in a recent address, repeated 
that saying as his confession of faith. 1 Many of us have an 
almost irresistible feeling that this life cannot be all; that 
intuition may be right — many of us believe that it is right. 
It would seem that in cherishing that belief we have every- 
thing to gain and nothing to lose. 

J. G. Frazer, Belief in Immortality. F. B. Jevons, Immortality 
(in Introduction to the Study of Comparative Religion). E. A. 
Crawley, Idea of the Soul. C. H. Toy, Judaism and Christianity, 
chap. vii. G. B. Cutten, Psychological Phenomena of Christianity, 
chap. xxxi. G. A. Gordon, Witness to Immortality. H. E. Fosdick, 
Assurance of Immortality. G. Galloway, Philosophy of Religion, 
pp. 562-74. C. C. Everett, Theism and the Christian Faith, chap, 
xxxiv. L. Abbott, Theology of an Evolutionist, chap. xi. J. Mar- 
tineau, Study of Religion, bk. iv. S. D. F. Salmond, Christian Doc- 
trine of Immortality. G. L. Dickinson, Religion and Immortality. 
J. S. Mill, Theism, pt. in (in Three Essays on Religion). J. M. E. 
McTaggart, Some Dogmas of Religion, chap. in. G. Santayana, 
Reason in Religion, chaps, xin, xrv. The Ingersoll Lecture Series 
(Houghton Mifflin Co.): lectures on immortality by John Fiske, 
William James, William Osier, etc. W. H. Mallock, Religion as a 
Credible Doctrine, chap. iv. G. Forester, Faith of an Agnostic, chap, 
vr. G. T. Ladd, Philosophy of Religion, vol. 2, chaps, xliv-xlv. 
A. K. Rogers, Religious Conception of the World, pp. 261-84. 
W. A. Brown, The Christian Hope. F. W. H. Myers, Science and 
a Future Life. F. C. S. Schiller, Riddles of the Sphinx, chap, xi; 
Humanism, xvn-xix. Harvard Theological Review, vol. 8, p. 45. 
Hibbert Journal, vol. 10, p. 543; vol. 2, p. 722. 

1 William Osier, Science and Immortality. 



CHAPTER XXV 

THE VENTURE OF FAITH 

The venture of faith suggested at the close of the pre- 
ceding chapter brings us to our final problem, which is the 
practical one concerning our right to believe where we can- 
not prove. This much debated issue can be divided into 
three distinct questions, which we will discuss in turn. 

Which is the higher ideal, loyal belief or impartial inves- 
tigation? 

The Church has quite generally demanded loyalty to 
its tenets and branded unbelief as a sin. It has viewed 
free thought and criticism with distrust and alarm; it has 
called the spirit of suspended judgment infidelity, and in- 
sinuated that doubt is the fruit of an evil life. The desirable 
man is the "believer," the man who professes confident 
belief in the doctrines of the Church — which he has prob- 
ably not investigated with any critical scrutiny and cannot 
defend with any show of reason — who refuses to harbor 
any critical reflections, who yields his intellect wholly to the 
Church's teaching, accepts whatever he is taught, and looks 
askance at the world of unbelievers outside. Men are urged 
to stifle any incipient doubts; and all sorts of emotional in- 
fluences are brought to bear to keep their faith warm and 
living. Belief, in short, is viewed as a sort of loyalty; and 
unbelief, if not actual sin, is at least a sad obsession, to be 
exorcised by any means available. 

In sharp contrast with this attitude is the ideal of modern 
science, the ideal of non-partisanship, of free inquiry and 



398 PHILOSOPHICAL 

criticism, the temper that looks for evidence before avowing 
belief and seeks to follow it whithersoever it leads. This 
cooler-blooded attitude has not, of course, been unknown 
among theologians; Dr. Taylor, our New England divine, 
used to say, " Follow truth though it takes you over Niag- 
ara! " and Coleridge wrote, in a well-known passage, " He 
who begins by loving Christianity better than the truth, will 
proceed by loving his own sect or church better than Chris- 
tianity and end in loving himself better than all." But on 
the whole, there has been little passion for truth in the 
Church, little willingness seriously to admit the possibility 
of delusion, little ability to look impartially at both sides 
of the great mooted questions. Its attitude of defense, of 
guarding the sacred deposit of faith, is only beginning to be 
discredited by the more judicial, unbiased spirit of science. 
The genuine scientist is ashamed to accept doctrines on the 
authority of past teachers who themselves were anything 
but critical in their temper, ashamed to yield his assent to 
articles supported by such slight and dubious evidence. 
Newton laid aside his theory of gravitation for fourteen 
years because of a discrepancy in his data for the moon's 
movements. Kepler, Faraday, Darwin, tried hypothesis 
after hypothesis, and kept their judgment in suspense for 
scores of years until the patient accumulation of facts seemed 
to them to warrant a safe conclusion. Does not our easy 
credulity and our cocksure dogmatism look pretty shallow 
and complacent by the side of such patient search and 
abstention? 

It is clear that we cannot be really sure that we have the 
truth, and not illusion, unless we do freely and severely 
scrutinize the evidence for our beliefs. And if we really pre- 
fer the truth to comfort we shall refuse to prejudice our 
judgment prior to such an inquiry. But more than that. 
Beliefs affect conduct; and it is of the utmost importance 



THE VENTURE OF FAITH 399 

that in adjusting ourselves to our situation in the world we 
should not let ourselves be blinded by our hopes or pre- 
vented by a false loyalty from looking facts squarely in the 
face. It is a realization of the vital importance of correct 
belief which led Huxley to speak of "the sin of faith" — ■ 
"that form of credence which does not fulfil the duty of 
making a right use of reason, which prostitutes reason by 
giving assent to propositions which are neither self-evident 
nor adequately proved." x Similarly, Mill writes of "the 
great intellectual attainment of not believing without evi- 
dence." 2 And Clifford, even more emphatically, declares, 
" Belief ... is not ours for ourselves, but for humanity. It 
is rightly used on truths which have been established by 
long experience and waiting toil, and which have stood in 
the fierce light of free and fearless questioning. ... It is 
desecrated when given to unproved and unquestioned state- 
ments. ... If a man, holding a belief which he was taught 
in childhood or persuaded of afterwards, keeps down and 
pushes away any doubts which arise about it in his mind, 
purposely avoids the reading of books and the company of 
men that call in question or discuss it, and regards as im- 
pious those questions which cannot easily be asked without 
disturbing it — the life of that man is one long sin against 
mankind." 3 



1 Life and Letters, vol. n, p. 427. Cf. also this passage from a letter to 
Charles Kingsley (vol. i, p. 233), written after the death of his beloved 
son, in reply to Kingsley's plea for faith in immortality as a necessary 
comfort in such grief: "Had I lived a couple of centuries earlier I could have 
fancied a devil scoffing at me and them, and asking me what profit it was 
to have stripped myself of the hopes and consolations of the mass of man- 
kind. To which my only reply was and is, O devil! truth is better than 
much profit. I have searched over the grounds of my belief; and if wife 
and child and name and fame were all to be lost to me one after the other 
as the penalty, still I will not lie." 

2 Essay on Berkeley. 

8 The Ethics of Belief, in Lectures and Essays, vol. n. 



400 PHILOSOPHICAL 

This rigorous self-restraint in belief is not a more intel- 
lectual feat, it is a moral victory. Facing as we do to-day 
political and social problems of the deepest importance, prob- 
lems wrapped at best in perplexity, but made vastly more 
difficult through prejudice and passion, the habit of basing 
convictions on evidence, and not upon personal preference, 
or bias, or unquestioned authority, is an essential of good 
citizenship. Led this way by class interest, pulled that way 
by the easy hope that to most men so readily becomes belief, 
blinded by appeals to the emotions and duped by vague and 
superficial arguments, the man who has not accustomed 
himself to forming his judgments disinterestedly and accu- 
rately, as the facts point, will not be the man who will truly 
serve his country or the world. Not he who doubts and 
questions is the infidel, the unfaithful man, but he who 
lazily accepts what he is taught, or selfishly adopts a faith 
which pleases him, who makes his judgment blind, and lets 
himself be seduced by 

"Sweet comforts false, worse than true wrongs." 

Moreover, there is something absurd in the spectacle 
of a host of different churches, each demanding allegiance 
to its particular brand of doctrine, each seeking not the 
real facts in the case but the promulgation of its inherited 
and loyally espoused view of the facts. Not in any such 
way can Christian unity come, or any general knowledge 
of the real truth about our situation. Matters have indeed 
improved; but there is room for much further improve- 
ment. "A century ago we were all eyes for the errors of 
every religious body but our own; to-day we are recognizing 
the truth in one another's positions; but there is one more 
stage, and that is for each to awaken to the errors in his 
own views — and that is the hardest stage of all. " l It is 
1 B. S. Streeter, Restatement and Reunion, p. 58. 



THE VENTURE OF FAITH 401 

necessary for us to realize that, however confident we may be 
in our accustomed views, we may be wrong. There are 
doubtless many facts we have not considered, many argu- 
ments to which we have never given a really fair hearing. 
We must not lazily assume the truth of inherited beliefs, 
or confine our reading to books that support our favorite 
notions. We must never consider any matter definitely 
settled so long as any doubt lingers in our minds. We must 
be willing to apply the same standards of evidence to our 
religion as to any other, the same methods of historical 
study to the Bible as to the Koran or the Zend-Avesta. 
We must be fair to all sides of a question, never shunning 
or suppressing evidence, never coloring our statements of 
the facts. We must not frown on the spirit of free inquiry in 
others, even when they question doctrines which to us are 
precious and beyond doubt. We must not fear for ourselves 
the leading of the evidence, or be unwilling to give up, if 
need be, whatever is most hallowed by old associations and 
most dearly cherished in our hearts. For there is no lasting 
safety in illusions, and no end of controversy or ultimate 
rest for the spirit of man but in the truth. 

This does not mean that we should rudely thrust our 
doubts upon everybody we meet, or set atheistic literature 
before our boys and girls at every stage in their education. 
But it does mean that we should refuse to drug our own 
intellects and those of others over whom we have influence, 
or to prefer a stupid acquiescence to the pangs of growth. 
To him who has but just begun to doubt his creed the way 
back is usually still open, if the comfort and peace of his 
early faith weighs more with him than the pursuit of truth. 
Many a young man, beginning the study of life, finds the 
old assumptions tottering in his mind, and, unable to face 
the pain of losing what is so precious to him, runs away 
from the dangerous studies, devotes himself with renewed 



402 PHILOSOPHICAL 

ardor to his espoused cause, and so encases himself in the 
shell of habit that he soon forgets the doubts that troubled 
him. He follows, in spirit, Pascal's cynical advice to the 
waverer, to take the holy water and say the masses; "that 
will stupefy you and make you believe again!" — Ca vous 
abetira et vous fera croire. That stupefying of the intellect, 
that reducing it to the level of the beasts — ■ ga vous abetira 
— is a high price to pay for the consolation of the faith. 
Yet if it were impossible to make life strong and useful and 
full of cheer without it, we might well prefer, if we could do 
so, to sacrifice truth to happiness. But it is not impossible 
to be truly pious and yet scrupulous lovers of truth; it is 
not necessary to flinch from facts to make our religious life 
earnest and strong and devout. It is possible, while keeping 
our spiritual life aglow, to keep our intellectual integrity, 
to strip ourselves of irresponsible beliefs, and, however 
sure we may feel of this doctrine or that, to keep always 
a window open toward the light. 

Should we accept or reject beliefs of whose evidence we 
are uncertain? 

It seems hardly debatable that loyalty to the truth, or to 
whatever probability the evidence may seem to us indi- 
vidually to suggest, is to be set above loyalty to any au- 
thority of creed or dogma. But what are we to do in cases 
where there is no convincing evidence one way or the other, 
or where we are unable to satisfy ourselves of its leading? 
The more rigorous of the scientifically minded insist that in 
all such cases, where we have not found sufficient evidence 
to convince our reason, we must remain agnostic, keep our 
judgment in suspense, refuse to entertain any opinion. 
Clifford asserts roundly that "it is wrong always, every- 
where, and for any one, to believe anything upon insuf- 
ficient evidence. ' But, ' says one, ' I am a busy man; I have 



THE VENTURE OF FAITH 403 

no time for the long course of study which would be 
necessary to make me in any degree a competent judge 
of certain questions, or even able to understand the na- 
ture of the arguments.' Then he should have no time to 
believe." 

But, declares the practical man, this limitation of belief 
is impracticable and undesirable. The beliefs which are so 
clearly evidenced as to be beyond doubt are not enough to 
live upon; we need to hold, at least provisionally, some belief 
concerning matters about which evidence is lacking one way 
or the other. To keep our minds a blank and refuse to decide 
at all would be to paralyze our action. Some choice is forced 
upon us: we have not only a right, but a duty, to adopt, at 
our own risk, one conjecture or the other, and act upon it. 
The youth has to ask himself the question, Will it be best 
for me to study this, or to study that? to enter this voca- 
tion, or that? He cannot have enough knowledge of his own 
powers and talents, or of the untried tasks into which his 
choice will lead him, to feel sure that he is judging aright. 
But decide one way or the other he must. His vocation is 
a venture of faith. So is his marriage, and parenthood, and 
a host of other undertakings. The man who should refuse 
to let faith have its way in any of these matters would amount 
to nothing, would lose his chance to count in the world. In 
the world of belief, as in the world of action — and, for that 
matter, the two are inseparably connected — ■ it is, nothing 
venture nothing have. 

Indeed, as William James pointed out in his now famous 
essay, we run as great a risk in not believing as in believing. 
"Believe truth? Shun error! — these are two materially 
different laws; and by choosing between them we may end 
by coloring differently our whole intellectual life. We may 
regard the chase for truth as paramount, and the avoidance 
of error as secondary; or we may, on the other hand, treat 



404 PHILOSOPHICAL 

the avoidance of error as more imperative, and let truth 
take its chance. Clifford exhorts us to the latter course. 
Believe nothing, he tells us, keep your mind in suspense 
forever, rather than by closing it on insufficient evidence 
incur the awful risk of believing lies. You, on the other hand, 
may think that the risk of being in error is a very small 
matter when compared with the blessings of real knowledge, 
and be ready to be duped many times in your investigation 
rather than postpone indefinitely the chance of guessing 
true. . . . Dupery for dupery, what proof is there that dupery 
through hope is so much worse than dupery through fear? 
I, for one, can see no proof; and I simply refuse obedience 
to the scientist's command to imitate his kind of option, 
in a case where my own stake is important enough to give 
me the right to choose my own form of risk." * 

No doubt we must discriminate between different types 
of situation. There are cases, where the decision has little 
or no practical bearing, where we may best keep our minds 
in the state of suspended judgment, in order not to bias our 
investigation or that of others. There are, further, cases 
of great importance, where we must check our belief from 
outrunning the evidence, because a hasty and ill-founded 
belief may be a wrong to some one. Clifford's shipowner 
should, indeed, have been especially slow to believe in the 
seaworthiness of his vessel, because that belief, if false, 
was pregnant with danger to those who might embark. A 
jury should be extra cautious about believing in the guilt 
of a man whom they have power to send to prison or the 
gallows. We should all hesitate long before believing a 
muckraker or a gossip, before believing in the guilt of a friend, 
or in the perfidy of a neighboring nation. Readiness to 
believe what it is to our material advantage, and some 
one else's disadvantage, that we believe, or what might 
1 The Will to Believe, pp. 18, 27. 



THE VENTURE OF FAITH 405 

involve us in a terrible and unnecessary war, is a grave fault 
and cannot be too severely rebuked. 

On the other hand, there are cases where the risk in not 
believing seems to be greater than that in believing. Will 
this course of treatment cure my sickness? I may have little 
to go on in trusting it; but if I refuse my belief I lose that 
chance of being cured. Will the use of alcohol hurt me? 
I may not be convinced by the evidence shown me that 
it will; but unless I believe that it will, and avoid it, I run 
the risk of irreparable injury. Shall I believe in a personal 
God? The argument may seem to be weak; but the risk 
seems to be greater in losing the comfort of a belief that 
may be true than in enjoying a belief that may be false. 
The fact is that, in these matters, not to believe is, prac- 
tically, to disbelieve. To refuse to believe in a personal 
God means to go without the sense of his companionship and 
care almost, if not quite, as much as if we flatly disbelieved. 
If the evidence is not strong, one way or the other, why 
should we not choose to avoid the greater danger, and accept, 
provisionally, some working belief, as we would use a tem- 
porary bridge or building, in order that our practical life 
may not be checked by a needlessly hesitating caution? 

Certainly in such cases we should not forget that we are 
dealing with possibilities only, that we are making a ven- 
ture of faith. We should be tentative and humble in our 
assertions of belief, always maintaining the distinction be- 
tween working hypotheses and well-evidenced conclusions, 
never erecting our personal faith into dogma or thrusting 
it rudely upon others. For the sake of all clearness of 
thought, for the sake of freedom from discord and strife, 
above all, for the sake of the dignity and repute of our re- 
ligion, we must cease from our cocksure assertion of these 
beliefs that we cannot prove, cease from using them as a 
requisite of piety. But with these cautions in mind, there 



406 PHILOSOPHICAL 

seems to be no real reason why we should not allow our 
minds to run far beyond the little mass of observations and 
inferences that we have as yet accumulated, and adopt, as 
working hypotheses, any conjectures or hopes that can 
serve as a useful basis for our practical activity. 

May non-evidential motives properly influence belief? 

If we agree that belief may properly, on occasion, out- 
strip evidence, we have yet to consider whether these work- 
ing hypotheses, these over-beliefs, may be influenced by 
non-evidential motives. In simpler phrase, may we let 
ourselves be guided by our desires? Is the "will to believe" 
legitimate? 

Not a few, the Cliffords, the Huxleys, and other men of 
fine scruples, insist that to allow our wish to be father to 
belief is to corrupt our intellects. To refuse to face the 
fact of our actual ignorance, and let the mind dwell only 
upon the most palatable possibilities, is a sort of dreaming 
that is cowardly and demoralizing. Moreover, there is 
something childishly silly in thus dwelling in heavens of 
our own invention instead of recognizing our actual situa- 
tion and making the best of it. "There is that to my own 
perception in honeyed theories of our place or prospects as 
men, in postulates of a golden solution of things, fetched 
from whatever heaven of invention, which are accredited 
because so eminently to our taste, — there is that in the 
sight of the constructive postulator, fancy-free, busy at his 
landscape-gardening in the infinite — which is not so no- 
ticeably immoral as ridiculous." l 

To such asceticism of belief we must all give great honor. 

In a world where few question seriously the views which 

form their particular intellectual environment, and fewer 

still weigh impartially the evidence on matters that affect 

1 D. S. Miller, in International Journal of Ethics, vol. 9, p. 169. 



THE VENTURE OF FAITH 407 

their happiness, the refusal to be influenced by the con- 
geniality of a conception is a very rare and admirable virtue. 
But is it necessary? The venture of faith in what is consoling 
and inspiring will not mean a tampering with the truth or 
vitiating our intellectual integrity, if we keep these over- 
beliefs as personal and provisional, clearly discriminating 
between them and those beliefs that rest upon evidence. 
It is not ridiculous, if these beliefs do really console and 
inspire us. In cases where we really do not know, to seek to 
deprive men of their conviction that their happiest hopes 
are well founded, is to diminish human happiness unwar- 
rantably. It may be seriously urged, indeed, that it is our 
duty to cherish optimistic beliefs, of whatever sort are 
plausible to our particular minds, to "accept the richer of 
two unproved possibilities," since hopefulness is a great 
stimulant to energy and addition to the worth of life. 

Certain cases, at least, seem clear. When believing in 
a desirable future fact may help to bring that fact about, 
it would be wrong to refuse to utilize this means. James 
gives us the case of the Alpine climber who must leap a 
chasm to extricate himself from an unlucky situation. A 
strict accounting of the evidence gained from his past ex- 
perience might suggest grave doubts as to his ability to 
make the leap in safety. Must he then refuse to make the 
venture of faith? But precisely that faith is needed to nerve 
his powers and make its object actual. So in every man's life 
there are occasions when belief in one's self or in others may 
make a real difference in the outcome. Must a mother refuse 
to allow herself to believe in the morality of her son, in his 
abilities, and success? But many a son who, according to 
the evidence at hand, has seemed to others worthless, has 
been actually saved and made into a man by this blind belief 
of his mother. A lover's belief that he can win the girl of his 
desire, my belief that you like me, the patriot's belief that 



408 PHILOSOPHICAL 

his country will be victorious in war, may help in the at- 
taining of the object coveted. To abstain from faith, even 
in a forlorn hope, under such circumstances, might involve 
a practical loss for which the value of the intellectual 
scrupulousness could hardly compensate. 

But in other cases also, where no practical consequences 
are involved, to let belief follow desire seems innocent. To 
believe in the safety of dear ones whom you know to be in 
danger, or in your own safe emergence from a dangerous 
situation, even though that belief can in no wise affect the 
outcome, seems clear gain. Why should we not live as long 
as we can in the presence of these more hopeful thoughts? 
Even if they turn out to be mistaken, we shall have been for 
so long the happier. So it seems to be with the beliefs in 
immortality, in the personality of God, and the other matters 
where evidence fails us. Our highest hopes may turn out 
to be true — ice believe they will. Why should we then keep 
reminding ourselves that they are, after all, but hopes, and 
darkening our horizon by the reminder of our ignorance? 
We know, after all, so little; the uncharted is vastly greater 
than the little fragments of reality we understand. As re- 
gards all the infinite deeps beyond our gaze, let us be un- 
ashamed to trust our hopes. 

We must, of course, hold all these over-beliefs open to 
revision when evidence appears; we must not let the "will 
to believe" deter us from the tedious and worrisome proc- 
ess of investigation and criticism; we must not pretend that 
our hopes are proved simply because we hold them per- 
sonally with conviction; we must not suppose that our 
faiths are truths "above reason," or that their comforting 
power is a proof of their truth. Above all, we must not 
thrust them dogmatically upon others or make them a re- 
quirement of admission to our Church. We must not seek 
to base our religion upon our unproved hopes; Christianity 



THE VENTURE OF FAITH 409 

has too much that is empirically verifiable for it to be 
rested upon foundations that may, even conceivably, be 
shaken. But we may well let our religion flower into these 
beautiful hopes as its sweetest development and consum- 
mation. 

The legitimacy of a personal faith of this sort has been 
urged not only by theologians and churchmen but by many 
men of rationalistic temper and ideals. John Stuart Mill, 
keen critic and cautious reasoner, ends his very radical book, 
Three Essays on Religion, with this thought: "To me it 
seems that human life, small and confined as it is . . . stands 
greatly in need of any wider range of aspiration for itself 
and its destination, which the exercise of imagination can 
yield to it without running counter to the evidence of fact; 
and that it is a part of wisdom to make the most of any, even 
small, probabilities on this subject, which furnish imagina- 
tion with any footing to support itself upon. And I am satis- 
fied that the cultivation of such a tendency in the imagina- 
tion, provided it goes on pari passu with the cultivation of 
severe reason, has no necessary tendency to pervert the 
judgment; but that it is possible to form a perfectly sober 
estimate of the evidence on both sides of a question and yet 
to let the imagination dwell by preference on those possibili- 
ties which are at once the most comforting and the most 
improving, without in the least degree overrating the solidity 
of the grounds for expecting that these rather than any 
others will be the possibilities actually realized. Though 
this is not in the number of the practical maxims handed 
down by tradition and recognized as rules for the conduct of 
life, a great part of the happiness of life depends upon the 
tacit observance of it. . . . On these principles it appears to 
me that the indulgence of hope with regard to the govern- 
ment of the universe and the destiny of man after death, 
while we recognize as a clear truth that we have no ground 



410 PHILOSOPHICAL 

for more than a hope, is legitimate and philosophically de- 
fensible." 

A more recent writer has phrased the same ideal as follows : 
" What I have wished to indicate is an attitude of what I may 
call active expectancy — the attitude of a man who, while 
candidly recognizing that he does not know, and faithfully 
pursuing or awaiting knowledge, and ready to accept it 
when it comes, yet centers meantime his emotional, and 
therefore his practical life about a possibility which he se- 
lects because of its value, its desirability. . . . When I speak 
here of faith, I speak of an attitude which is not primarily 
intellectual at all, and which is quite compatible with — 
nay, which depends upon — intellectual agnosticism; for it 
presupposes that, in the region to which it applies, we do not 
know. The attitude I would describe is one of the emotions 
and the will — the laying hold, in the midst of ignorance, of 
a possibility that may be true, and directing our feelings 
and our conduct in accordance with it. . . . [This] attitude 
is different in its origin and effect from an attitude based 
upon knowledge. It is more precarious, more adventurous, 
more exciting, more liable to ups and downs. But it may be 
equally and even more efficacious upon life; and it is not 
necessarily to be condemned as illegitimate." ' 

But can we not say even more than this? Such a faith in 
the meaning and destiny of life is not only legitimate, it is 
almost necessary, for most men, for the richest unfolding 
of their energies and the deepest dedication to their ideals. 
The men who have done great things are the men who have 
had faith in something, a faith held perhaps in spite of ap- 
pearances or of ridicule, a faith that they followed like a 
guiding star through long years of patient labor and utmost 
sacrifice. Alexander, with his faith in the irrestistible power 

1 G. L. Dickinson, Religion, A Criticism and a Forecast, pp. ix-x; 78-80. 
(Condensed.) 



THE VENTURE OF FAITH 411 

of his Hellenic phalanx; Paul, with his faith that his Gospel 
could redeem the world; Cecil Rhodes and the other empire- 
builders, with their faith in the future of the lands to which 
they gave their lives — such are the men who have pushed 
humanity along the path of progress. Can we not almost say 
that to be great is to cherish some such faith and let it dom- 
inate every hour? The patriot has faith in his country, the 
lover in his lady, the religious man in his God. Why should 
we not believe — earnestly, eagerly, as the patriot does, 
ardently, passionately, as the lover does? What if we should 
be mistaken? Even so, it will be better to have believed. 
But however mistaken the particular form of our hopes may 
be, nothing can shake our conviction that somehow good 
will triumph over evil, that some great destiny awaits us 
which will justify the patience and the passion of our faith. 

W. K. Clifford, Ethics of Belief, Ethics of Religion (in Lectures 
and Essays, vol. n). W. James, Will to Believe, title essay; Some 
Problems of Philosophy, Appendix. International Journal of Ethics, 
vol. 9, p. 169; vol. 19, p. 212. E. H. Rowland, Right to Believe, 
chap. i. H. Sidgwick, Ethics of Religion (in Practical Ethics). G. L. 
Dickinson, Religion, A Criticism and Forecast, chap, iv; Religion 
and Immortality, chap. i. J. S. Mill, Theism, pt. v. L. Stephen, 
An Agnostic s Apology. T. H. Huxley, Science and the Christian 
Tradition, chaps, vii-ix. W. E. H. Lecky, Map of Life, chap. xi. 
A. H. Lloyd, Will to Doubt. G. S. Fullerton, World We Live In, 
chap, xviii. B. W. Bode, Outline of Logic, chap. xv. Harvard 
Theological Review, vol. 3, p. 294. 



SUMMARY OF PART III 

What is the present status of theology? 

We have now passed in rapid review the leading argu- 
ments of contemporary religious philosophy. Much that 
was irrational and mistaken in the older tradition has long 
been exposed; on the whole, a far saner view of life and of 
religion prevails than among church-people of even a genera- 
tion ago. But if we are candid, we must admit that upon its 
constructive side theology has less to show. We can raise 
far more problems than we can solve; and we know far less 
about the great enigmas than men once thought they knew. 
The situation is far from satisfactory: theology has been 
overhasty, unwisely dogmatic, and, for the most part, 
committed to an untenable method. But we need not 
despair. Already attempts at an empirical theology are 
appearing; the near future may show a great advance in 
this, the last field to be occupied by science. We await new 
philosophies. But in the meantime our duty is, in the main, 
clear; we are to serve and to work during the day. The ulti- 
mate outcome of our labors we cannot see; but perhaps it 
will be far greater than we dare to dream. 

In any case, the religious experience rapidly surveyed in 
Part II of this volume remains unquestionable, however 
dubious the interpretations and inferences that have been 
based upon it. There is a way to transform life, to give it 
dignity and imperishable worth; religon has found that 
way, and remains the best thing in the world. And as for 
those beliefs that transcend experience, they may well be 
true, or adumbrations of something that is true, even if 



SUMMARY OF PART III 413 

the arguments by which they have usually been supported 
are weak and fallacious. We shall be told that men want 
something more definite, more sure. And with that want, 
that hunger of the heart, we can all sympathize. What would 
we not give to pierce the veil! But the trouble with the 
"definite" dogmas is that they are definitely assumptions, 
definitely presumptuous, surely unproved. The Church 
must be willing to acknowledge this; the world outside knows 
it, and discredits the Church for its blindness, or its unwill- 
ingness to admit the limitations of our present knowledge. 
The situation is not so soothing to our wistful wonderings 
as we should like, but it is vastly stimulating. The whole 
movement of theology, comparative failure as it has been, 
witnesses monumentally to man's indestructible sense that 
his ideals count in a greater world than here and now, that 
human life has a wider setting, that the struggle between 
good and evil has a cosmic significance and is but paving 
the way for a consummation of which our Christian hope 
has been, however inadequately, a symbol. This is the 
larger significance of the belief in God. That belief, in some 
form or other, man, whatever his future history may be, 
will never abandon. "A religion without a great hope is like 
an altar without a living fire." And Christianity, not only 
because of the insight and profundity of its ideals, but be- 
cause of the splendid sweep of its cosmic hope, is probably 
destined to be, in some developed and rationalized form, 
the religion of the future. 

In conclusion, the practical corollaries of the point of view 
from which this volume has been written may be gathered 
into a brief summary: We must be open-eyed and open- 
minded, keeping our intellectual integrity, never closing 
the window to new light, always ready to revise our beliefs 
when new evidence appears. We must recognize the differ- 
ence between the assured conclusions of science and those 



414 PHILOSOPHICAL 

personal over-beliefs, which, however passionately we may 
espouse them, stand upon a different level and cannot serve 
as bases for a universal religion. We must not delude our- 
selves into thinking that we know more than we do, or 
trouble ourselves over the limitations of our knowledge. We 
must be tolerant and sympathetic toward the beliefs of 
others, never thrusting our own beliefs dogmatically upon 
them, but sincerely seeking to learn from them as well as to 
win them to what seems to us good and true. We must learn 
to see God in human life, to love, fear, and seek God, as the 
guiding motive of our lives. We must cleave through all 
temptation to the way of life that Christ revealed, and that 
he lived, that we may find therein the joy and peace and 
power to serve that is our birthright. We must believe in 
prayer, and utilize this means, as well as the institution of 
the Church, for the deepening and purifying of our spiritual 
life. We must believe in and work for the coming of the 
Kingdom of God on earth, the time when righteousness shall 
reign and men shall live as brothers together. We must 
believe, so far as in us lies, in the power of the human soul to 
live beyond the grave, in the ultimate victory of good over 
evil, and the greatness of our destiny. We must seek to 
bring together the scattered forces of the Church, finding 
some common platform or covenant upon which men of 
good will the world over can unite for that age-long war 
with sin and suffering which it is the great mission of reli- 
gion to wage. As a suggestion toward such a common 
covenant, and as an epitome of the spirit that has animated 
this volume, the writer would append this brief profession 
of his personal faith : — 

I believe in God, the Eternal Power that makes for righteous- 
ness and all good: known to us in Nature, speaking to us as the 
Holy Spirit in our hearts, incarnate in the soul of Christ. I believe 
in the Way of Life taught by Christ, in the Bible as a revelation 



SUMMARY OF PART III 415 

of God, and in the power of prayer unto Salvation. I pledge 
myself to live by the eternal laws of God, looking unto Christ for 
guidance and strength; to resist unto the end all sensuality, self- 
ishness and sin; to work loyally with the Church of Christ for the 
coming of the Kingdom of God on earth; and to cherish the hope 
of eternal life. 



INDEX 



INDEX 



Abelard, 176. 

Abnormal experiences as a source of 

religious beliefs, 14, 171, 317, 319. 
Absolute, the, 347, 349, 393. 
Adam, J., 25. 
Adams, G. P., 208. . 
Adler, Felix, 225. 
.Eneas, 32. 
.Eschylus, 25. 
Ahriman, 46. 
Allen, Grant, 14, 100. 
Ahura-Mazda, 46. 
Ambrose, 115, 199. 
Amiel, H. F., 208. 
Amos, 57. 

Analogy, argument from, 303. 
Angro-Mainyu, 46. 
Animal-worship, 52. 
Animism, 11, 22, 31, 37. 
Anselm, 175. 
Antioch, council of, 89. 
A priori reasoning, 252, 255, 282. 
Aquinas, Thomas, 111, 175, 252. 
Aristides, 97. 
Aristotle, 380. 
Ark, the, 54, 155." 
Arnold, Matthew, 4, 6, 60, 72, 141, 

144, 146, 149, 159, 185, 193, 218, 

223, 287, 293. 
Aryan religion, 21, 26, 31, 36, 45, 49. 
Ascension, 251, 287, 388. 
Asceticism, 157. 
Asoka, 44. 

Atheism, 141, 146, 217, 332. 
Athene, 30, 33, 130. 
Atonement, the 104, 153, 174. 
Augustine. See St. Augustine. 
Aurelius, Marcus, 131, 201, 206, 209. 
Authority, 249, 255, 275. 
Aveling, F., 295, 299, 302, 321. 
Avesta, 46. 

Baals, 52, 130. 
Bacon, B. W., 65, 88. 



Bacon, Francis, 253. 

Bahaism, 211, 231. 

Balfour, Arthur, 351, 352, 354, 355, 
358. 

Baptism, 67, 167. 

Beard, C, 119. 

Bergson, H., 283. 

Bible, editions of, 49, 66; value of, 
57, 60, 273, 276; attitude of Prot- 
estants toward, 118, 121, 260, 274; 
dogma of its infallibility, 249, 260, 
-265; composition of, 264; criticism 
of, 267; authority of, 275. See 
also Old Testament, New Testa- 
ment. 

Bigg, C, 232. 

Bishops, origin of, 113, of Rome, 114. 

Bloomfiedd, M., 37. 

Bode, B. W., 328. 

Bousset, W., 75. 

Boutroux, E., 255. 

Bowen, C. R., 84. 

Bowne, B. P., 298, 299. 

Brahma, 37. 

Brahmanism, 36, 130, 207, 314. 

Bruno, 252, 261. 

Buddha, 38, 130, 206. 

Buddhism, 36, 131, 156, 203, .217. 

Burgon, Dean, 267. 

Burkitt, F. C, 66. 

Burma, religion in, 42. 

Butler, Bishop, 121. 

Calkins, M. W., 190. ~ 

Calvin, 119, 130, 261, 276. 

Calvinism, 119. 

Campbell, R. J., 142, 

Canon, origin of, 265. 

Caritas, 93, 201. 

Carlyle, T., 137, 221, 237, 280, 289. 

Carpenter, J. E., 39, 66. 

Carter, J. B., 32. 

Carus, P., 110. 

Case, S. J., 236. 



420 



INDEX 



Catholic. See Roman Catholic. 
Celibacy, 117, 158. 
Channing, W. E., 120, 121, 122, 163. 
Charles, R. H., 62. 
Chesterton, G. K., 29. 
Chivalry, 199. 

Christ, his teaching, 39, 44, 75, 115, 
171, 206, 231, 289, 293, 316; his 
life, 63; his healing, 67, 284, 287, 
288, 289, 314, 325; meaning of the 
name, 68; his personality, 72, 143, 
233, 239, 278; his resurrection, 72, 
82, 84, 287, 288, 291 ; his genealogy, 
75, 270; deification of, 106, 142; 
divinity of, 142, 236; his power to 
save, 167, 174, 186, 236; belief in, 
238. 

Christian Science, 38, 123, 183, 206, 
209, 284, 313, 325, 347, 368, 370. 

Christianity, contrasted with other 
religions, 1, 43, 229; primitive, 82, 
97, 104, 239; causes of its triumph, 
96, 131, 259, 325; modern, 119; 
its nature, 231, 244; its need of 
growth, 236; Christless, 238. See 
also Christ, Church, Protestant- 
ism, Reformation, etc. 

Church, the, its present needs, 2, 4, 
233, 258; its origin, 82, 113; its 
development, 98, 123, 236, 250; 
need of, 241; its opposition to 
free thought, 258, 397, 413. See 
also Christianity, Papacy, Sacra- 
ments, Reformation, Protestant- 
ism, Creeds, Dogma, Authority, 
Roman Catholic Church, Greek 
Orthodox Church, etc. 

Cicero, 307, 396. 

Clemens, S. L., 211. 

Clifford, W. T., 399, 402. 

Coe, G. A., 173. 

Coleridge, S. T., 398. 

Color-blindness, 359. 

Comte, Auguste, 217, 334. 

Confessional, 117. 

Conscience, 16, 320. 

Consciousness, 301, 386, 392. 

Conservation of energy, 392. 

Constantine, 99, 199. 

Conversion, 167, 168, 244, 281, 284, 
314, 322. 

Cornill, C. H., 49. 



Coulanges, F. de, 213. 
Counter-Reformation, 116. 
Covenant, 152, 240, 266. 
Creation, 16, 270, 295, 303, 380. 
Creeds, evolution of, 98; Athanasian, 

Nicene, Apostles', 102; relation 

of to religion, 215, 239. 
Criticism, need of, 3, 401; meaning 

of, 267. 
Crooker, T. H., 191. 
Cross, preaching of the, 92, 231. 
Crothers, S. M., 381. 
Crusades, 199. 
Cumont, F., 24. 
Cutten, G. B., 207, 211. 

Dante, 111, 130, 206. 

Darwin, 198, 304, 398. 

Decalogue, 51, 141. 

Delahaye, H., 285. 

Deliverance from sin, need of, 16, 41, 
96, 105, 167. 

Democritus, 304. 

Design, 302, 349. 

Deuteronomy, 55, 265. 

Deva, 46. 

Devil, 110, 174, 380. 

Dewey, J., 338. 

Dewev and Tufts, 185, 301. 

Dickinson, G. L., 216, 257, 329, 339, 
343, 410. 

Dobschiitz, E. von, 78. 

Dogma, growth of, 98, 115, 239, 260; 
dangers of, 215, 250. See also 
Creeds, Orthodoxy, etc. 

Dole, C. F., 238. 

Dowie, John Alexander, 123. 

Drake, Durant, 17, 18, 129, 158, 301, 
361. 

Dreams, significance for early re- 
ligion, 13. 

Driesch, H., 283. 

Driver, Canon, 268. 

Dualism, 46, 175. 

Duty, 42, 140, 160, 224, 321, 335. 

Dyaus, 22. 

Ecclesiasticism. See Church, Creeds, 
Dogma, Sacraments, Authority, 
Priests, etc. 

Eddv, Mary B. G., 210, 368. 

Edghill, E. A., 97, 211. 



INDEX 



421 



Edwards, Jonathan, 119, 120, 163. 

Eleusis, 23. 

Elijah, 57. 

Elohim, 50. 

Emerson, R. W., 20, 72, 138, 140, 

163, 208, 212, 217, 219, 337. 
Emotion in religion, 214, 341. 
Empirical method in theology, 121. 
Ennius, 32. 

Ephesus, Council of, 109. 
Epistles, 265, 266, 269. 
Eugenics, 164. 
Euripides, 28, 30. 
Eusebius, 201. 
Evangelism, 171, 173, 233. 
Everett, C. C, 110, 121. 
Evil, problem of, 210, 384; the war 

against, 233, 366, 382. 
Evolution, 304, 306, 375, 387. 
Exile, the, 55. 
Ezekiel, 52. 
Ezra, 265. 

Fairweather, W., 62. 

Faith, 180, 245, 396, 397; salvation 

by, 91, 105, 180, 245. 
Faith-cures, 325. See also Faith, 

salvation by; Christian Science; 

Christ, his healing. 
Fall, the, 164. 
Farwell, L. R., 30. 
Farquhar, J. N., 45. 
Farrar, Dean, 5. 
Fechner, G. T., 347. 
First Cause, 295. 
Fiske, John, 148. 
Fitch, A. P., 220, 314, 342. 
Fletcher, Horace, 211. 
Foster, G. B., 255, 261. 
Fourth Gospel, 64, 107, 144, 236, 

239. 
Free will, 377. 
Friedlander, G., 100. 
Fullerton, G. S., 299. 
Future Life. See Immortality. 

Galileo, 252, 261. 

Galloway, G., 225, 314, 318, 329, 339, 

342, 347. 
Gautama. See Buddha. 
George, H. B., 268. 
Ghost-theory, 13. 



Glossalalia. See Tongues, speaking 

with. 
Gnosticism, 91. 
God, historic conceptions of, 50, 56 t 

79, 106, 119, 120, 125, 175, 270; in 

nature, 135; nature of, 135, 145, 

217, 291, 293, 316, 322, 327, 413; 

fear of, 140; in man, 142, 237; 

love of, 202; as Creator, 295, 303; 

pragmatic arguments for, 342, 346, 

349; omnipotence of, 368, 379, 391. 
Goethe, 227, 322. 
Goodspeed, G. S., 61. 
Gordon, G. A., 293. 
Gospels, 65, 266, 269, 287. See also 

Fourth Gospel. 
Gray, G. B., 66. 

Greek Orthodox Church, 115, 154. 
Greek philosophy, 24, 100, 103, 130, 

223, 258. 
Greek religion, 20, 284. 
Green, T. H., 183, 232. 

Hall, H. Fielding, 12, 43, 214. 

Hall, J. J., 163. 

Hannay, J. D., 159. 

Harmony of the Gospels, 66, 287. 

Harnack, A., 102, 109. 

Harrison, J. E., 14, 24. 

Hatch, E., 241. 

Haupt, P., 49. 

Heaven, 109, 130, 166, 285. 

Hebrew religion, 49, 131, 265, 274. 

See also Prophets of Israel, Psalms, 

Messianic hope, etc. 
Hell, 109, 130, 166, 176, 271. 
Helmholz, 308. 
Heresy, 259. 
Hermits, 157. 
Herodotus, 286. 
Hesiod, 22. 

Hierocles, Song of, 156. 
Hilty, Carl, 344. 
Hoffding, H., 318. 
Holley, H., 231. 
Holmes, Edmond, 163. 
Holtzmann, O., 66, 113, 114, 325. 
Holy Spirit. See Spirit, Holy. 
Homer, 22, 27, 383. 
Horace, 34. 
Hosea, 58. 
Hume, David, 282. 



422 



INDEX 



Huss, 116. 

Huxley, H., 257, 283, 399. 

Hypatia, 260. 

Idealism, objective, 347, 393. 

Immortality, 109, 291,' 383. 

Incarnation, the, 100, 142, 237. 

Inconceivability, 355. 

India, religion in, 26, 36. 

Infallibility of the Pope, 115; of the 
Bible, 249; of the Church, 250. 

Inge, W. R., 185, 207. , 

Innocent III, 115. 

Inspiration, 264, 272, 273. 

Instincts, trustworthiness of, 340, 392. 

Intuition, 330. 

Isaiah, 58, 200, 269. 

Isis, 34. 

Israel. See Hebrew religions, Proph- 
ets of Israel, etc. 

Jackson, H. L., 78. 

Jahveh. See Jehovah. 

James, William, 11, 28, 120, 160, 167, 
168, 172, 182, 190, 207, 219, 224, 
253, 309, 319, 323, 325, 329, 337, 
343, 347, 348, 356, 381, 403. 

Jefferies, R., 209, 217. 

Jehovah, 51, 52, 56, 130. 

Jesus. See Christ. 

John the Baptist, 67. 

John, Gospel of. See Fourth Gospel. 

Jones, M., 78. 

Jones, R. M., 119. 

Josephus, 64. \ 

Joshua, 52. 

Josiah, reform of, 55. 

Judaism. See Hebrew religion, 
Prophets of Israel, Psalms, Mes- 
sianic hope, etc. 

Judas, 70. 

Judgment, the, 76, 88, 93, 109, 110, 
385, 390. 

Julian the "Apostate," 99, 156. 

Jiilicher, G. A., 66. 

Jupiter, 22, 27, 32, 33. 

Justification. See Salvation by faith. 

Justin Martyr, 211. 

Justinian, 260. 

Kant, 337, 355. 
Kennedy, H. A. A., 100. 



Kent, C. R, 49, 61. 

Khayyam, Omar, 395. 

King, I., 11. 

Kingdom of God/50, 67, 76, 109, 232, 

414. i 

Kingsley, Charles, 399. 
Knox, G. W., 237. 
Koran, 126. 
Kuhns, O., 208. 

Ladd, G. T., 225. 

Lake, K., 84. 

Lang, Andrew, 15, 16. 

Lares and Penates, 32. 

Last Supper, 103, 269. 

Lazarus, 287, 288. 

Lebreton, J., 109. 

Leo III, 115. 

Leuba, J. H., 16, 182, 185, 211, 323, 

324, 339. 
Lewis, E., 237, 238. 
Liberal Christianity, 122. 
Lindsay, T. M., 119. 
Lobstein, P., 66. 
Locke, John, 253. 
Lodge, Sir Oliver, 156. 
Logos, 65, 107. 
Loisy, A., 105, 230. 
Longfellow, H. W., 205. 
Lord, the, origin of its substitution 

for Jahveh, 51. 
Love, 79, 93, 97, 197. 
Lucian, 97. 
Lucretius, 9, 10, 34. 
Luke, Gospel of, 65. 
Luther, 116, 260, 267., 

McConnell, Bishop, 173, 322. 
MacFadyen, J. E., 49. 
Macintosh, D. C, 237, 348. 
McTaggart, J. M. E., 220, 334. 
Madonna, worship of, 109, 117. 
Magic, 10, 187. 
Magna Mater, 34. 
Mallock, W. H., 333. 
Mana, 11. 
Manes, 14, 52. 
Manitou, ll. 
Marett, R. R., 11. 
Mark, Gospel of, 65. 
Martineau, J., 216. 
Mass, the, 117. 



INDEX 



423 



Mather, Cotton, 119. 

Mathews, S., 109. 

Matthew, Gospel of, 65. 

Maximus of Tyre, 20. 

Maya, 38. 

Mazzini, 199. 

Mechanism, 136, 282, 298, 300, 303. 

Medical Materialism, 319. 

Melancthon, 261. 

Menzies, A., 214. 

Messiah, meaning of the word, 61; 

Jesus' conception of the, 68, 78; 

Early Christian conception of, 106, 

287. See also Messianic hope. 
Messianic hope, 60, 67, 76, 93, 109, 

385. See also Messiah. 
Metempsychosis. See Transmigration. 
Mill, J. S., 72, 233, 253, 308, 309, 318, 

356, 381, 399, 409. 
Miller, D. S., 344, 406. 
Milton, 175. 

Minds, belief in other, 327, 342, 346. 
Miracles, 280. 
Mithras, 24, 34, 97. 
Modernism, 122. 
Moffatt, J., 66. 

Mohammed, 51, 124, 317, 318. 
Mohammedanism, 124, 207. 
Moody, D. L., 275. 
Moore, A. W., 348. 
Moore, G. F., 46. 
Monasticism, 117, 204. 
Monotheism, 37, 49, 107, 125, 130. 
Montanism, 101. 
Moral law, 17, 297. 
Morality, contrasted with religion, 

222, 335. 
Morgan, J. V., 211. 
Moses, 51, 53, 265, 268. 
Mother of God, 109, 117. 
Moulton, R. S., 50. 
Muller, Max, 138. 

Munsterberg, H., 285, 315, 316, 326. 
Murray, Gilbert, 12, 20, 21, 26, 202. 
Mycenaean religion, 21. 
Mystery in religion, 214. 
Mystery religions, 23, 384. 
Mysticism, 137, 206, 320, 326. 
Mythology, 23. 

Natural law, 136, 281, 284. 
Natural selection, 304, 392. 



Nazarenes, 99. 

Neo-Platonism, 103, 108. 

Newman, J. H., 251. 

New Testament, composition of, 64, 

266; editions of, 66. 
New Thought, 183, 211. See also 

Christian Science, Faith-cures. 
Newton, Sir Isaac, 398. 
Nirvana, 40, 341. 
Numa, religion of, 31. 

Observation, errors in, 312. 

Odysseus, 29. 

Oesterley, W. D. E., 61. 

Old Testament, editions of, 49; in- 
troductions to, 49. 

Olympian religion, 21, 26. 

Optimism, 333, 367. 

Organic life, 299. 

Origen, 239. 

Ormuzd, 46. 

Orphic brotherhood, 23. 

Orthodoxy, 238, 241, 267. See also 
Dogma, Creeds, etc. 

Osiris, 34, 104. 

Osier, William, 396. 

Outer envelope, 66. 

Paine, L. L., 109. 

Paley, 303. 

Palmer, G. H., 225. 

Papacy, 114. 

Parker, Theodore, 121, 276. 

Parsees, 47. 

Pascal, R., 402. 

Paul, his life, 64, 85, 157, 171, 319; 
his vision of Christ, 83, 87, 269, 
288, 292, 314, 317, 389; his teach- 
ing, 90, 104, 106, 162, 178, 180, 200, 
231, 265, 272, 319, 332, 390. 

Paulsen, F., 307, 309, 347, 363. 

Peace, religious, 203, 244. 

Peake, A. S., 66. 

Pearson, K., 253, 255, 362. 

Pentateuch, 268. 

Perry, R. B., 299, 344, 352, 364. 

Persecutions, 99, 199, 272. 

Persephone, 27. 

Persian religion, 45. 

Pessimism, 40, 163, 203, 232, 368. 

Peter, his "confession," 68; bis vision 
of Christ, 82; his leadership, 84; 
as head of Roman Church, 114. 



42* 



INDEX 



Pfleiderer, 0., 66. 

Pharisees, 69. 74. 

Philo Judieus. 107. 

Pinkham. H. W.. ITS. 

Pitkin. W. B.. 335. 

Plato. 25. 137. 309, 3S0 ; 3S3. 

Pliny, 64, 106. 

Plotmus. 108. 

Plutarch. 30. 

Pol vb his. 32. 

Polytheism, 11, 37, 46, 50, 106, 109, 

130, 136. 
Popes. See Papacy. 
Povertv, cult of, -204. 
Powell,' L. P., 211. 
Pragmatism. 332. 
Pratt. J. B.. 15. 
Prayer, 1S7, 313, 343. 
Predestination, 164. 272. 
Presbyters, origin of, 113. 
Priests. 113. 
Progress. 375. 
Prophets of Israel. 55. 155, 162, 200, 

•264. 313. 
Protestantism, its origin, 116; its 

goal. 122. 130. 262. 
Psalms, 59. 268, 271. 
Psvchical research. 317. 393. 
Purgatory. 111. 117. 3SS. 
Puritanism, 119, 221. 
Purity, SO, 92, 97, 155, 197. 

Rausehenbusch, W., 60, 231. 

Reason, as the basis of belief. 121. 
275, 352. 

Redemption. See Salvation, Conver- 
sion. 

Reformation, 115, 260. 

Regeneration. See Salvation, Con- 
version. 

Reinach, S., 214. 230. 

Reincarnation. See Transmigration. 

Religion, evolution of, 9. 12S: nature 
of, 160. 20-2. 213. 239. 243: vs. 
theology, 215; vs. morality, 222. 
SS5: vs. science, 25S, 351. See also 
Christianity, etc. 

Religious experience, interpretation 
of, 2S5. 312. 

Religious sense, supposed, 329. 

Remorse. 159. 

Renan, E., 72. 



Renunciation. 41. 161. 
Repentance. 231, 241. 293. 
Resurrection, the. 72. 52, S4, 2S7, 
288, 291, 3S9. 

' Revelation. 24i 272 book of, 269. 
Reviile. A.. 66. 84, 108. 
Rhvs-Davids. T. W„ 41. 45. 
Rice. W. X.. 
Riehm, E. C. A., 61. 
Righteousness, 57, 161. 
Rilev, t "VToodbridge, 211. 
Rogers, A. K., 311. 
Roman Catholic Church, 113. 
Roman religion, 31, 114, 200. 
Bousseao, 227. 
Ro--;.i-d. E. H .. 351. 355. 
Royce, J., 163, 230, 347. 
Ruskin, John, 377. 

Sabatier, A., 106. 176. 

Sacraments. 67. 100, 103, 117, 167, 

233. 23.5. 241. 
Sacrifice, 151; human, 152; trans- 
formation of the conception of, 153. 
St. Augustine. 120, 121, 163, 171, 

175. 199, 250. 
St. Francis, 35, 66, 19S, 240. 
St. Jerome, 113. 175, 267. 
St Simeon Stvlites, 157. 
St. Theresa, 318. 
Saints, worship of. 109. 
Salvation, IS. 96, 104, 117, 167, 16S, 

229: by faith. 91. 105. 172. ISO, 

245. 323: through Christ, 167, 174, 

1S6, 236. 
Santayana, G., 21, 23, 97, 9S, 370. 
Satan. See Devil. 
Scapegoat, 152. 
Schaub. E. L.. 154. 
'. Schiller. E. C. S.. 332. 338, 339, 342, 

343, 347, 345, 355. 
Schools, closing of the, 260. 
Schweitzer, A.. 78. 
Science vs. religion. 25S. 351. 
Scientific spirit, 254, 2S2, 345, 361, 

397. 
Scott. E. E.. 65, 66, 67. 73, 103, 108, 

113. 114. 
Seelev. Sir J. R., 13S, 139, 146, 256, 

257. 
Servetus, 261. 
Service, spirit of. See Love. 



INDEX 



425 



Seth, A., 347i 

Shakespeare, 199. 

Shamans, 15. 

Shotwell, J. T., 100, 213, 214. 

Shower man, Grant, 100. 

Sin, 154; forgiveness of, 73, 79, 314; 

original, 1G2, 169, 175. 
Smith, H. P., 49. 
Smith, W. R., 19. 
Socinus, 175. 
Sophrosyne, 29, 30. 
Spear, R. E., 235. 
Spencer, Herbert, 14, 214, 301, 355, 

358. 
Spinoza, 267. 
Spirit, Holy, 106, 108, 139, 238, 314, 

316. 
Spiritualism, 285, 317, 393. 
Spirituality, 244. 
Soul, 387. 
Stanton, V. H., 66. 
Starbuck, E. D., 168, 169. 
Stephen, 87. 
Stoics, 25, 96, 201, 209. 
Stokes, A. P., 145. 
Stratton, G. M., 339. 
Streeter, B. S., 353, 400. 
Strong, C. A., 299. 
Sturt, H., 231. 
Suetonius, 64. 
Sunderland, J. T., 289. 
Supernatural. See Miracles. 
Superstition, nature of, 217. 
Synoptic Gospels, 65. 

Taboo, 155. 

Tacitus, 64, 83, 

Taylor, Jeremy, 163. 

Teleology. See Design. 

Telepathy, 394. 

Tennant, F. R., 163. 

Tennyson, Alfred, 29. 

Teraphim, 52. 

Theodicy, 41, 306, 366. 

Theology, its relation to religion, 215 
its method, 249, 312, 332, 358 
Scholastic, 252; origin of, 259 
present status, 412. 

Thompson, J. M., 66. 

Tolstoy, L., 193. 

Tongues, speaking with, 83, 317, 319. 



Toy, C. H., 62. 

Transcendentalism, 38, 347, 393. 
Transmigration, 36, 37, 39. 
Transubstantiation, 103. 
Treves, 285, 325. 
Trine, R. W., 211. 
Trinity, the, 106, 109, 136, 145. 
Tylor, E. B., 13. 
Tyndall, 189. 

Unworldliness, 80, 97, 117, 158, 204, 

224, 232. 
Uzzah, 155. 

Vedas, 26, 36, 46, 156. 

Vesta, 32. 

Virgil, 34. 

Virgin birth, 6Q, 142, 270, 286, 

288. 
Visions, 317. See also under Paul. 
Vitalism, 283, 301. 

Warner, C. D„ 278. 
Warschauer, J., 65. 
Weber, A., 260. 
Wedgwood, J., 37. 
Wendell, Barrett, 121. 
Wenley, R. M., 255. 
Wernle, P., 66. 
Wesley, John, 181, 
Weymouth, R. F., 66. 
White, Andrew D., 261. , 
Whitman, Walt, 161. 
Wiggers, G. F., 163. 
Will to believe, 406. 
Witch of Endor, 15. 
Worcester, Elwood, 185. 
Word of God (= Logos), 107. 
Wordsworth, W., 138, 208. 
Workman, H. B., 159. 
Wyclif, 116. 

Xenophanes, 24. 

Y.M.C.A., 123. 

Yoga, 207. 

Zend-Avesta, 46, 156. 
Zeus, 22, 25, 33. 
Zoroaster, 46. 
Zoroastrianism, 42, 45, 131. 



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